


There Will Be Flowers

by Fantismal



Category: Jacksepticeye (Youtube), Markiplier (YouTube), Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Fantasy Kingdom AU, Jack's a snot, Kidnapping, M/M, Mark has a thing for flowers, Minor characters include Bob Wade Ryan Matt Daithi Chica..., Royalty, kingdomsau, long fic is long, playing fast and loose with characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Mark has been abducted and is now trapped in the reclusive kingdom of the Emerald Division, but his green-haired captor does not open up easily. With every new layer Mark discovers, he realizes there are many more secrets hidden beneath King McLoughlin's icy stare.</p><p>Inspired by icarus-descend's KingdomsAU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fantastic [icarus-descends](http://icarus-descends.tumblr.com/) made [some INCREDIBLE artwork](http://icarus-descends.tumblr.com/search/kingdomsau) depicting Mark and Jack as royalty of neighboring kingdoms, and my little brain just went wild. This is being posted with Icarus' blessing as an AU of that AU, not canon in the least. Go follow the links to see the art!
> 
> A huge thank-you also goes to [Eltrkbarbarella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Eltrkbarbarella/pseuds/Eltrkbarbarella), who puts up with my word vomit and tells me to keep writing. ~hugs~ Thank you, dear!

“And what am _I_ supposed to do with him?”

The voice was sharp, lilting with the accent of the mountains, cutting through the fog in Mark’s brain. He couldn’t move. _Kidnapped._ It was a threat he’d been aware of for as long as he can remember, but it had never actually _happened_. The lands held by the empire of the TigersEyes were safe. Peaceful. There hadn’t been a war in generations, just calm annexing of neighboring countries to create a union stronger than any one individual land. Pirates on the sea were a pain, but aside from the occasional successful raid, their navy held the threat at bay. Their only physical neighbors, the mercenary spies and assassins of the Emerald Division that held the jagged mountains cutting across the land, kept the more organized Sapphire Sea kingdom at bay. There was no real danger in Mark’s world.

And yet he had been kidnapped anyway, snatched from the landlocked palace while enjoying a catnap in the autumn sun. Fuzzy memories were finding their way back to Mark’s mind. It had felt so good to stretch out in the warmth. He had closed his eyes for just a minute… someone had grabbed him, strong fingers pressed against his throat…

Kidnapped in broad daylight. From a palace. Thomas was going to have some words for him…

“This was not part of our agreement.”

Sharp-tongue was still talking. Mark couldn’t quite hear who he was talking to. The other’s words were muffled and tinny, as if shouted over a long distance. Could he risk opening his eyes? Testing his bonds? Maybe. Mark cracked his eyes open, peering out...into darkness. A blindfold? He almost sighed, but that would have alerted Sharp-tongue to his consciousness. He had no idea if the other man was looking at him or away from him.

“If his brother…”

 _Oh yes, be scared of Thomas!_ Mark growled at Sharp-tongue in his head. His brother, Thomas, was the King of TigersEye City (and the surrounding lands), powerful and strong. TigersEye was peaceful. That didn’t mean they were weak. One of the reasons there hadn’t been a war in so long was precisely _because_ TigersEye was so strong. They asked nicely for cooperation, but they did carry a big stick, one that hadn’t been allowed to swing in years. As soon as Thomas found out where Mark was, Sharp-tongue was going to be in for a world of hurt. Mark just needed to stay in one piece long enough for Thomas to find him, and the army would be more than happy to see some real action.

“Our defenses are not in question.” Sharp-tongue was pissed at whomever he was talking to. Mark hid an internal smile. Anger could be manipulated. “Our alliance, however…”

Alliance? Mark’s smile faded, a cold knot of fear developing inside him. Sharp-tongue spoke like an Emerald from the mountains. They had trade agreements with TigersEye, but no alliance. Was Sharp-tongue allied with Sapphire? He spoke like someone used to command. If the Emeralds and Sapphires joined forces, then the Emerald Division would no longer be a defensive wall for TigersEye to relax behind. An _actual_ war was not something TigersEye was prepared for…

“Do not test my patience.” At least there was some friction between Sharp-tongue and the other person. Maybe Mark could use that to his advantage. “I will agree to this _request_ , this time. See that you do not ask again.”

There was a faint click, and then footsteps drawing closer to Mark. He could hear the soft scrape of leather on stone more through his ear pressed against the floor than anything else. If he hadn’t been lying on his side, he likely wouldn’t have realized Sharp-tongue was drawing close.

A scratchy gauze fabric brushed his nose, and Mark wrinkled it automatically. Suddenly, the blindfold was yanked off and Mark was left blinking in the bright light of the chamber he was in. Crouched in front of him, dressed in a sleeveless black bodysuit and airy green gauze, was a sour-faced man with an iron crown settled in green hair. Emeralds were set in the metal, in his ears, around his throat, around his arms. _King McLoughlin_.

Mark had never met the Emerald royalty. There was a king and a queen and multiple children. That was the full extent of his factual knowledge. The Emeralds truly were a reclusive people, hiding behind their mountain fortresses, keeping their kingdom tightly under their control. Trade was done in the foothills, and ambassadors were sent from the royalty to speak with their voices. Rumor had it the Emeralds had a way of far-speaking with people. Rumor had it the Emeralds were shapeshifters. Rumor had it the Emeralds were cannibals.

Rumor had a lot of things. Rumor didn’t have that the Emerald king had hair like fresh spring grass or eyes as blue as a summer sky. It also didn’t have the dark circles smudged beneath those eyes, across pale skin that didn’t see nearly enough sun.

“Kidnapping royalty is an act of war,” Mark said, hating how scratchy the words were. He coughed to clear his throat, struggling now to sit up. Obviously, the king knew he was awake. He twisted his wrists, testing the bonds that held him.

“We did not kidnap you, Prince Mark.” There was no question that the king was Sharp-tongue, his voice still buzzing with agitation. “We had you delivered to us as a gift, by our so-thoughtful _friends_.”

“I wasn’t aware the Emerald Division _had_ friends.”

The king’s smile was razor thin and humorless. “There is a lot about us you don’t know.”

“I already know more about you than I did this morning,” Mark pointed out, managing to push himself up with his shoulder so he was almost eye-to-eye with the king. “I know what you look like now, your Majesty.” No point in being rude just because he was a captive.

That thin smile didn’t falter. “But do you know my name?”

“Patrick,” Mark answered. The king of the Emerald Division was Patrick, and his wife was Florence. Mark knew _that_ much. They did have many agreements with their neighbors, and Mark had been present for at least some of the signings. Even though King Patrick or Queen Florence were never there in person, their names were signed on the documents.

“Seán.” The thin smile remained, even as Mark’s own confidence faltered. “My late father is no longer with us.”

Seán McLoughlin. Mark racked his brain for any knowledge of Emerald’s crown prince. The king and queen had been mysterious enough, only sending words through the voice of an agent. Their children were all but invisible, known to exist but never heard. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Mark said, letting his tongue run on autopilot as he hooked his fingers into the ropes around his wrists. His arms were tied behind his back. Someone knew how to hold a prisoner. “Your father was a great man.”

“So well-mannered,” Seán said, reaching out to pinch Mark’s chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. “You’re not at all the foul-mouthed brat I’ve heard so much about. Except, of course, that this is your political face.”

“Hey!” Mark protested. “I’m not…” Foul-mouthed was a fairly apt description of him, actually. When Mark wasn’t playing the part of the prince, he tended to be excessively liberal with his speech. “...a brat,” he finished weakly. For just a moment, Seán’s thin smile came to life, and the sour-faced king looked like a normal human. For just a moment. _He can appreciate a joke,_ Mark noted. Good to know. Royalty with a sense of humor made things easier. “You’ve heard a lot about me?”

“I make a point of hearing about all of my neighbors,” Seán said. “Especially the dangerous ones.”

“TigersEye is _not_ dangerous,” Mark protested. “We’re peaceful!”

Seán raised a thick eyebrow. “Is that what you’ve told all of your conquered states?”

“No one died…”

“And you don’t think that makes it worse? At least with deaths, their pride had a chance.”

“Pride is useless if you’re dead,” Mark said. “Our way, we all benefit, and no family mourns a loss.”

“Perhaps you underestimate the value of one’s pride,” Seán said, but he shook his head and rose to his feet, releasing Mark’s chin a beat too late and forcing the prince to look up at him. “What am I going to do with you, Prince Mark?”

“You could send me back to my brother,” Mark suggested. “I’ll put in a good word for you. ‘Beds are hard, but people aren’t too bad. Would visit again.’”

“You are not sleeping on my floor.”

“Oh, is this _your_ room?” Mark looked around with interest. While a king’s bedchamber was actually a semi-public room, the little personal touches could tell a lot about a person. Thomas’ room had paintings of their family and a corner devoted to his hounds, for example. _Any_ knowledge on the Emerald royalty was more than what TigersEye already had. Every attempt to get spies into their neighbor’s kingdom had been quickly thwarted. The Emerald Division was firmly locked down against outsiders.

Unfortunately, Seán’s room was completely non-descript. The furnishings were dark lacquered wood with emerald green tapestries and carpets and upholstery. A landscape painting of the Emerald mountains hung over the massive stone fireplace. The bed that dominated the room was decorated with sharp, geometric shapes. There was nothing organic or alive about this place, nothing that spoke to Seán’s personality. How long ago had he inherited this from his father? Had it been long enough to leave his own mark on the place?

That thin smile was back, as if Seán knew exactly what Mark was trying to do. “We do not open easily to our guests,” he said. “You’re going to have to try harder if you truly want to learn our secrets.”

Mark sighed, letting his shoulders slump. “I suppose I’ll have to live with your mysteries, as I won’t be around long enough to tease out the truth.” He certainly didn’t _want_ to stay around in this dead, desolate place. There wasn’t a room in TigersEye City that didn’t have some breath of life to it, even if it were only a bouquet of flowers in a vase or hanging by the door.

“I’m not returning you to TigersEye. Your brother does not know you are here. He has no reason to suspect our involvement. For now, this is the safest place to keep you.”

“Much to your chagrin?” Mark asked, watching Seán turn away and stride toward a wall. He moved like a snake, all sleek and rippling, a tight black bodysuit clinging to his muscles, green gauze fluttering around him, giving him an ethereal aura.

Seán glared over his shoulder at Mark, his mouth tight. “Exactly. You are far more trouble than you’re worth, Prince Mark.”

“Let me go, and I won’t be any trouble at all.”

“I can’t do that.” Seán pulled a cord on the wall, summoning someone. Mark knew the bell-pull system from his own home. A servant? A guard? “Do try not to upset me, your Highness. Your brother does not know you are here. He does not _ever_ need to know.”

As threats went, it was subtle, more of a warning, really, but Mark just needed one look into the king’s cold blue eyes to know that it was entirely backed up by conviction. If Thomas didn’t know where Mark was, and Mark proved too much of a handful to keep contained, Seán could easily execute Mark without Thomas ever finding his body. The Emerald Division guarded its secrets fiercely. What was one dead prince, when they already hid the fall of their king?

Two armored guards appeared in a doorway, their helmeted heads looking toward their king for instruction. Seán waved an emerald-encrusted hand at Mark. “Take him to a guest room. See that he is comfortable, then lock the door.”

The two guards bowed to their king and approached Mark, mailed feet ringing on the stone floor. Mark tried to back away, but they caught him under the arms and hauled him to his feet. Seán was already moving away, apparently uninterested, as Mark was frogmarched out of the room.

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Either the path to the guest rooms was incredibly convoluted, or the guards were deliberately trying to confuse Mark. He tried to keep track of the dark halls, but there were so many twists and turns, so many similar decorations, that he was soon hopelessly lost. The only way he would get back to the king’s room was with a map.

The guards marched in silence despite Mark’s attempts to get them to open up. A piece of black gauze covered their faces behind their helms, keeping any hint of their identities hidden. Perhaps that could be useful. If Mark could get some of their armor, he could mask his own face and pass unnoticed. If silence was encouraged among the soldiers, it was a perfect corps to hide in.

It could _not_ be that easy. The Emerald Division was the master of stealth and secrecy. Surely they covered their own army from such an obvious infiltration tactic. It was probably just because they were escorting _him_ , enemy royalty, a captured prince.

Mark stumbled as he was shoved through a door, catching his foot on the corner of a green rug. A strong hand caught his forearm, keeping him from falling. The second guard pulled out a knife. Mark held his breath, unable to hide the bite of fear that he would be murdered here--but surely not. This was obviously a nice bedroom. The mess from his blood would be too much of a hassle to clean. If he were going to be murdered, surely it would have been in a room without carpets on the floors.

The knife slid between his wrists, slicing easily through the bindings around his arms. Mark pulled them forward quickly, rubbing feeling back into his skin and backing away from the guards just in case.

“This room is outfitted with all essentials you should need.” The first guard spoke in clipped, _female_ tones. Mark hadn’t been expecting a woman to be wearing armor. “A servant will attend to your fire and bedding, and will bring you your meals. Is there anything you will need before the morning?”

“My freedom?” Mark asked, looking around the room. It was nowhere near as opulent as Seán’s bedchamber, but Mark actually liked it better. The natural grain of the wood in the bed and furniture were visible, and the green decoration was more the color of a thick forest than the somber gloom of a swamp. A huge window dominated one of the walls, and Mark crossed the room to look out. Would there be an escape route there? Or at least a garden to give him something to look at?

The horizon dropped away in a dizzying descent. Mark stood in a high tower, sheer walls surrounding him. The Emerald Palace was one of the few known locations within the Emerald Division, a sharp, crystalline structure of green marble and glass that towered among the mountains and cut into the sky. On a clear day, when the sun was setting just right, the dusk light would hit the facets of the building and reflect an eerie green glow visible even from the eastern side of TigersEye. There was no ivy or vines crawling up these walls, and barely even a seam between the stones. Escape out this window would lead to an almost-certain crushing death.

“Freedom is not an essential.” The second guard was also female. Mark glanced at the two women over his shoulder, eyeing them thoughtfully. Their black faces were shrouded and expressionless. “Are you in need of immediate food? A larger fire?”

There was a small fire burning now, just enough to take the chill out of the room. A glass pitcher stood on a table near it, holding what looked like water, along with a simple glass tumbler. Mark sighed, letting his arms drop to his sides. “My room looks adequately furnished. Please give my gratitude to your king.”

The two guards bowed, not nearly as deeply as they had to Seán, and turned to leave the room. Mark heard the heavy thud of the lock sliding into place and scowled at the door. This wasn’t a cell, but it was a prison nonetheless.

 _Kidnapped!_ Mark twisted and punched his fist into one of the green cushions, growling at the less-than-satisfying whumph it gave. How could he have been so _stupid_ , so off-guard! He was kidnapped and far from home, at least a full day’s travel from the border even if he had a map to keep him from getting lost. The Emerald Division was allied with an enemy of TigersEye, and Mark had no way of warning his brother. Surely his absence was already noted. From the look of the light out the window, it was already late evening. Mark last remembered being in TigersEye before noon. And…no, it couldn’t even be the same day. It took three days to get from TigersEye City to the eastern border, and at least another day beyond that to reach the Emerald Palace. Half a week gone? Thomas had to be frantic. _Mark_ was frantic. How had he lost four days? Only vague, half-remembered things came to mind when he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate. The occasional word. Tones of voice. The chemical smell of ether, sweet and cloying.

Four days. Mark glanced down. He was half-dressed, still in his shirt and leggings, the tigerseye bands marking him as royalty still in place around his arms and forehead, but the rest of his outer regalia was stripped away. Someone else must have taken care of him while he was unconscious, cleaned his body and forced food down his throat. Mark couldn’t remember _any_ of it. He sank down onto the windowseat, shoving his hand into his mouth and biting a knuckle to keep from screaming. How had this happened to him? How _could_ it happen?

What was _going_ to happen?

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

The wardrobe had held a small complement of clothes, mostly black. There was a white nightshirt folded on a shelf, though, and Mark changed into it, taking the opportunity to examine his body for injuries. Aside from old bruises around his throat from a chokehold, he seemed unharmed. At least his captors hadn’t taken the opportunity to hurt him while they kept him unconscious.

Mark tucked his tigerseyes beneath the pillows and curled up into the bed, closing the hangings and trying to pretend he was back home in his own bed. It was no use. His golden hound Chica was not at his feet, her snuffles lulling him into dreams. The hangings were heavy and green, not the soft reds and golds that had surrounded his bed from the day he was born. The pillow smelled old and unused, not _dirty_ , but not comforting. Certainly not like the lavender sachets always tucked around the royal rooms. Mark closed his eyes tightly and tried not to think about the suffocating weight of the brocade blankets above him.

Raindrops pelting against the window woke Mark up the next morning. He lay still in the bed for entirely too long, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing. Was he travelling? Visiting the nobility, being seen around the empire…no. Emerald. He was kidnapped and being held in the Emerald Division.

Mark folded the blankets back, sitting up slowly. The air inside the thick bedcurtains was cool and stifling. He couldn’t hear anyone in the greater bedroom, couldn’t hear anything except the sound of the rain. Mark felt under his pillows, relaxing minutely when his hands closed around the leather bands bearing his tigerseyes. He strapped them around his biceps and set the headband over his forehead, checking his ears to make sure the studs were still in place. Good. At least the king had left him this much of his dignity. His gems were spelled for protection and strength, working passively to negate the day-to-day trials of a prince such as the possibility for food poisoning or a nasty head cold. Apparently, they didn’t do much against thumbs jabbed into carotid arteries or ether pressed against noses.

They didn’t do much for cold floors either. Mark yelped when he pushed his curtains back and set his feet on the bare stones, hastily drawing them back. Emerald was so damn _cold_ all the time! No wonder King Seán had trouble smiling. Mark wouldn’t smile easily either, if all his energy went to keeping from freezing. He shuffled along the bed to the end, standing up and jumping from the foot to one of the thick rugs in the living section of the bedroom. It was still cool over here, but at least the rugs didn’t freeze his feet.

The fire had been relit and breakfast had been laid on a small table. Mark lifted one of the silver lids, relieved to find recognizable food of eggs and plain toast beneath. His stomach whined, nauseated and starving at the same time. Whatever Mark had eaten while barely conscious, it hadn’t been nearly enough. The lingering effects of the ether still made him a little unsettled, but surely toast, at least, was edible.

Mark drew an emerald blanket off a forest green couch and wrapped it around himself before taking a seat at the table. There was no one else in the room he had to be proper in front of. He could indulge in a little self-comfort of snuggling up warmly while he ate.

A porcelain carafe sitting near his breakfast held hot black tea. It wasn’t coffee, but it was almost as good. Mark cradled his cup of tea between both hands as he watched the rain pelting against the window. Last night, the weather had seemed so calm. This morning was quite another story. The wind howled as it whipped around the tower, stirring up ghostly harmonics from the crystal edging outside. Mark shuddered and pulled his blanket tighter. What a creepy place to live.

After breakfast, Mark poked around the room. His clothes from yesterday were gone. Laid out across a small bench was an outfit all in black, a bodysuit similar to the one King Seán had been wearing, but with none of the ornamentation (and thankfully with full-length sleeves), and black leather shoes with hard, sturdy soles. Mark washed his face and arms at the nightstand before reluctantly drawing on the bodysuit. It clung to his skin with a faint feeling of rubber, barely leaving anything to the imagination. Mark grimaced at his reflection, hating how dark and cold the outfit made him look, and wrapped the green blanket around his shoulders again. Better.

The hard soles of his shoes tapped loudly against the stones when he walked. Even if he tried to be quiet, it was impossible. Brilliant, stupid Emeralds. Mark couldn’t be barefoot or he’d freeze, but if he wore their shoes, he’d be easily heard if he tried to escape. He grumbled to himself, sinking onto the couch and staring into the crackling fire.

When the fire grew too boring, Mark stretched off the couch and began to explore his prison. There was a small door tucked behind a curtain leading to a garderobe. Mark examined the hole, wondering if he could escape by squeezing through it, wondering if such an escape attempt would be worth it. The smell wasn’t bad, implying that it was cleaned frequently...but surely the Emeralds were anticipating every possible escape and blocked it somehow. Mark wrinkled his nose and stepped away. He wasn’t _that_ desperate. Not yet.

The room had changed when Mark returned. He froze in the doorway, staring around in surprise. His bed had been made, the table cleared, and a selection of books had been laid out. Whatever servants Emerald employed were swift and efficient. Mark couldn’t have been out of the room for more than a couple of minutes. Had they been waiting with their ears pressed to the walls?

Mark checked the door, but it was still locked tight. The rain still sluiced down the window, and the garderobe was still empty and dim. Mark felt his way along every wall of the room but could not find another exit. Resignedly, he gathered up the books he had been left and curled up on the couch again.

Three days passed in much the same way. To Mark’s surprise, his own clothes had been returned on the second day, clean and pressed. Not his boots, though. He was stuck in the hard-soled Emerald shoes. Fresh food and drinks, richer than his first meal as his stomach settled, appeared whenever Mark eventually succumbed to the call of the garderobe, and no matter how quickly he tried to return, he could never catch a servant in the act of tending to his room. It rained every day and cleared up every night, with surprisingly beautiful views of the moon and the mountains from the windowseat, even if there were no flowers or real colors other than shades of green. Mark spent most of his days just reading the selections made for him, finding a history of the TigerEye Empire particularly fascinating. There had also been an essay on the creation of colored glass and a sketchbook full of pictures of statues and views of the Emerald Palace.

Very little of what Mark was exposed to actually gave him much education on the Emerald Division. He had a better understanding of the outside of the palace, but the interior layout was still a mystery. So were all the inhabitants of the building. Mark hadn’t seen a single person in three days. He felt like he was losing his mind, pacing around the room and tugging at his hair. For all its amenities, this was still a prison, and Mark was about to scream. There was only one thing left he could think to do.

Dragging his feet and coughing as loudly and hoarsely as he could, Mark schlepped his way to the main exit. He pounded his fist against the dark wood door, letting his knees go limp and slide him to the floor. His knocking grew weaker as his fist dropped, and he drew himself up against the doorjamb, ready to pounce.

After a moment, a key scraped in the lock and Mark grinned. As the door eased open, Mark launched himself to his feet, tackling the guard checking on him. She tried to scream, but Mark had his arm around her throat, squeezing tight, cutting off her cry into a gurgle of pain. These inner guards didn’t wear any type of gorget. Silly Emerald soldiers, leaving such a vulnerability.

Mark didn’t kill the guard. He choked her into submission, then stripped her of her weapons and dumped her in his room. Closing and locking the door behind him, he slipped off down the hall, as quietly as he could manage. If he got up on his toes, his shoes weren’t quite so loud. Mark felt better with a sword in his hand and a knife in his belt.

Where was he going to go? Mark hesitated at an intersection, then turned left. Was he trying to get out? Get to Seán? If he could get the king hostage, he could probably negotiate a release to TigersEye. Then again, if he could just get out of the palace, he might be able to escape on foot, without pissing off the entire kingdom by holding a sword to their king’s throat. Decisions, decisions…

It was really a moot point, anyway. Mark didn’t know how to escape the palace. He turned left every chance he got, hoping he wasn’t going in circles. When he found some stairs, Mark went down. He had been in a tower. Surely the exit was down below.

A heated argument echoed its way up the stairwell, and Mark flattened himself against the central pillar. There was no place to hide. He’d have to fight his way out. Mark reached up to rub the large tigerseye gem over his forehead for luck, then tightened his grip on his sword. From the sounds of the scuffed footsteps, his unsuspecting victims would turn into him in three, two, one…

The first one squealed as his foot connected with her midsection, tumbling down the stairs. The second was faster on the draw, managing to slice across Mark’s face with a knife before he could slam his sword hilt into her side, winding her enough for him to smack her hand with the flat of the blade, getting her to drop the weapon. _Majesty! Your Majesty!_ rang out from below, and Mark flung himself down the stairs, taking them three at a time. He knew what that tone meant. Seán was nearby, and his guards were rushing to him. If Mark could get to him first…

Mark burst through a room and straight into the green-haired king himself. Seán bared his teeth at Mark, lifting a dark gray sword to clash with Mark’s as the larger man launched himself at the king.

This was Mark’s only chance to escape. He slashed at Seán, trying to break his defense. If he could just get behind the king, he’d have his hostage. Seán looked so _tired_ , his blue eyes heavy and dark. Mark shouted into his blows, making Seán’s thin arms shake with the force of each impact, each blocked strike.

“Your Majesty!” Unmasked guards were pouring into the room now, horrified at the skirmish. Seán’s eyes flicked to the side, looking at them, and that was all the advantage Mark needed. He feinted and stabbed, the king’s sword moving too slowly, his blade biting into Seán’s side. As the green-haired man gasped in pain, Mark fell behind him and held him close, holding the sword in place. The injury wasn’t deep...yet. Mark forced his elbow beneath Seán’s chin, tipping his head back against Mark’s shoulder. The guards stopped moving, keeping their distance. Their king was in check. If Mark pulled too hard on his sword in the wrong direction, he could spill Seán’s guts across the cold marble tiles.

Seán was breathing heavily. Mark could feel every echoed pant against his own heaving chest. He was _warm_ , though, the warmest thing Mark had felt in this life-forsaken land. “Call them off,” Mark murmured into Seán’s ear. Those blue eyes slid closed. “ _Call them off,_ ” Mark repeated. “I don’t want to hurt you. I certainly don’t want to kill you. I just want to go home. You let me go, and nothing worse needs to happen.”

“TigersEye isn’t dangerous?” Seán asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“They aren’t.” Mark grinned against Seán’s hair. “I never said _I_ wasn’t…”

Was that a chuckle, that slight shake against his chest? Seán opened his hand, letting his sword clatter to the ground, then lifted it toward his guards. “ _Stop._ ”

The word was heavy in Mark’s ears, a leaden weight dropping into the room. The guards immediately froze. Mark smiled in relief...or at least he tried to.

Seán opened his eyes. They were green now, with a faint shimmer lighting them from within. Around his throat, his head, his fingers, his emeralds pulsed along with his heartbeat, with the light in his eyes. His emerald power reached for Mark, soaking into the tigerseyes he wore, turning his own stones against him. “Oh Prince Mark,” he sighed, reaching down to push Mark’s sword away from his side. Mark couldn’t resist the light touch. “Did no one teach you the _hierarchy_ of gems?” He reached up, removing Mark’s arm from his neck, stepping away and turning to face the Tigerseye prince. Mark could only watch in horror as Seán straightened up and lifted his hand again, his eyes narrowing as he studied Mark. Green power pulsed around him, sparking through the gauze around his chest and arms and waist, crackling between the points of his iron crown. Seán brought his hand down, and Mark felt his knees fold, dropping him awkwardly to kneel in front of the Emerald king. “Emerald _always_ trumps tigerseye.”

With a spread of his fingers, the king forced Mark’s hand open. His stolen sword clattered to the ground. Seán lifted his chin, and one of the guards sprang forward to reclaim the weapon.

“Leave us.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty-”

“ _Leave_ us. _Now_.”

Seán’s tone brooked no argument. The guards hesitated for only a moment before they backed away, closing the doors and leaving the two men alone in the room. Mark had no doubt that they were piled close on the other sides of the doors, just waiting for a chance to come and decapitate him.

The emerald power loosened its hold, and Seán touched his fingers to his side, pressing them into the sticky blood soaking into his black bodysuit. His skin beneath the cut was just as pale as that of his face, where it wasn’t covered in blood. Mark remained on his knees, knowing he was defeated. If he got up, Seán would just drive him down with the emeralds again.

 _Gem hierarchy_. Oh, it had been mentioned before, but no one actually _used_ it. Turning a man’s gems on him was a heinous violation. _Especially_ a royal’s gems! It was an unspoken rule that you never actually _exploited_ gem hierarchy. At least, it was in TigersEye.

But then again, TigersEye was one of the lower gems. The extinct Diamonds had been the most powerful, with Sapphire and Emerald shortly below. A gem could overpower and corrupt gems of a lower rank. TigersEye was useful for self-directed spells, but could do almost nothing against another’s gems. Emerald, apparently, could turn other men into puppets.

“What _am_ I going to do with you, Prince Mark?” Seán sighed. His eyes were blue again, but they were not comforting. Mark swallowed heavily, wondering if his remaining life was better measured in minutes or hours. “Were you not treated well? Did you not have everything you needed provided for you?”

“I didn’t, actually.” Mark risked looking up at Seán. There was nothing preventing him from doing so. “I lacked companionship.”

“Companionship?” Seán repeated, meeting Mark’s eyes. “If that is all you need to stay put, we will arrange for a whore…”

“Not a _whor_ ,” Mark said, grimacing at the thought. Oh, he had nothing against the ladies of negotiable affection in general, but he had a strong distaste for how they plied their wares. Sex was one thing, fun and good. Sex dressed up in false love felt cheap and disgusting, turning his stomach far worse than four days of ether. “People. Other humans. My _family_?”

Seán’s eyes were hard. “You cannot be returned home, Prince Mark. Surely you understand this.”

“It’s been a week,” Mark said. “You’d have too much explaining to do.”

“Or you would, and quite frankly, your Highness, I do not trust to you _not_ tell your brother all you have already learned.”

“It’s hardly anything,” Mark protested. “So your king is dead. Someone gifted you my gorgeous self. Though I have my suspicions, I have no proof. And between you and me, your Majesty, Thomas will sooner box my ears than listen to a word I say after I let myself get kidnapped from the palace grounds.”

“I do know how older brothers work. He will be angry, but he will forgive you. He will be relieved you are home and you are safe. Once he calms, he will listen.”

“If you know how older brothers love their younger brothers, then you know if I die at your hands, he _will_ rip your kingdom apart, gem hierarchy be damned. If my mothers don’t first.”

“The biggest threat to you here is your own stupidity, Prince Mark.” Seán pressed his hand against his cut side, his jaw tight. It had to be hurting, even if it wasn’t severe enough to kill. “If I permit the servants to speak with you, will you _stay in your room_?”

“Maybe for a day,” Mark said, opting for honesty. Seán was being surprisingly calm despite having had a sword in his side. Perhaps he’d actually work with Mark. “Maybe two.”

Seán sighed, angling a flat look down at Mark. Mark smiled innocently back up at him. “And _then_ what would you be lacking?”

“Freedom,” Mark answered.

“You cannot-”

“Freedom to move,” Mark interrupted. “I don’t like cages, your Majesty. I need to _move_ , to roam. If you know so much about me, surely you know that Thomas is always sending me on journeys. I travel with him, for him, across the entire empire. I _move_ , and explore, and experience. I cannot be content locked in one room, or one building, or even one city.”

“You cannot have free reign throughout the country.”

“Then set a guard on me.” Mark spread his arms wide. _Assign a guard I can slip away from into the night_. “Set two! Four! I’ll take a _leash_ , if only I can be free from the cage.”

Seán’s eyes remained narrow and calculating, but then he gave a nod. Mark’s heart leapt. _Really? Is he really going to give me a chance?_

“I will consider your request,” Seán said. “Prove you deserve my trust. _Behave_ , at least until I have made my decision.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Mark bowed low, still on his knees. “Thank you.” _I’ll be a model prisoner, until you open my prison yourself and I fly free._

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Regardless of whether or not he was going to let Mark roam free, Seán did change his servant policy. Two men, Wade and Bob, one tall and balding, the other tall and chubby, began to make their presence known, exchanging pleasantries with Mark when they came in to tend to his fire or bed or bring him meals. At Mark’s request and with Seán’s permission, Wade brought in a game board and the two would join Mark for midday or midnight games of chess.

It rained every single day. After a week of gloomy skies, Mark was sitting despondently in the window seat, his cheek pressed against the cool glass. Bob was preparing a hot bath for Mark. “Does the sun _ever_ shine here?”

“Sun?” Bob asked. “What’s that?” When Mark stared at him in horror, Bob burst out laughing. He had a truly infectious laugh. “Yes, yes it does, but winter is starting. There’s not much sun in the winter.”

“Shouldn’t winter be snow?”

“The snow will come later, and then you’ll be glad for this warm room.”

“Warm? It’s _drafty_. The wind comes right through the windows.”

“Not if you close the curtains.” Bob smiled, dabbing his fingers in the water. “Your bath is ready. Would you like to wear Emerald or TigersEye?”

“Why do you bother asking?” Mark asked, stripping off his clothes only once he’d reached the bath’s side. It was too cold to stay naked for long, and he eased into the hot water with a pleased sigh. Full baths were hard to get in these towers, apparently, but according to Bob, King Seán had requested that Mark be given one. Mark appreciated the thought. There were days where he felt he’d never warm up.

“The pri-the _king_ has asked about your behavior,” Bob said. “I just thought you might wish to appeal to his good will by attempting to embrace our culture.”

“Does Seán _have_ good will?” Mark grumbled, sinking lower into the tub.

“Come on now, he’s not as bad as you make him out to be! Look at all he’s given you!”

“He’s kept me trapped in this room for a _week_ , dangling the temptation of freedom over my head if I behave. Gods know how long he’s going to keep it up. Probably as long as I let him.”

Bob hummed non-committedly, lathering up a cloth. Mark leaned forward to let the other man wash his back. The heat did feel good.

“Don’t try to pretend I’m not a prisoner here,” Mark said quietly. “My cell might be pretty and soft, but it’s still a cage.”

“It’s for your own safety as much as it is ours,” Bob pointed out. “We don’t _have_ visitors in the mountains, and at least half the guards would love to have your liver on the end of their sword.”

“Just because I stabbed the king…”

“Nobody has drawn our monarch’s blood in decades,” Bob said. “We have the safest ruling family in the world.”

“Nobody kidnaps them from their gardens?”

“Nobody.”

Mark grimaced, wondering if Bob even knew how Mark had wound up as Emerald’s sole guest. “Do _you_ want my liver on a sword?”

“Nah. I like your liver where it is.” Bob flicked his fingers against Mark’s back, making the prince growl at him. “No, I have served the king ever since he was a wee little baby. If he’s not after your blood, then I’m not. Besides, he keeps calling you his guest.”

“Only because it’s uncouth to call a prince a prisoner.”

Bob shook his head, dipping the cloth in the bathwater to wash off the suds. “Emerald’s cells have held royalty before. You haven’t seen anything resembling a prison here. You should try to be more positive.”

Mark swiped the cloth from Bob and smacked his hand with the wet linen. “Oh, fuck off. I’m the captured prince, I’m allowed to be as moody as I want!”

Bob chuckled, gathering Mark’s clothes and getting to his feet. “As you wish, your Highness. Do you need anything further?”

Mark sighed, settling back in the tub and sliding down until the water tickled his chin. “No, not at the moment. Thank you.”

Bob gave a little bow, folding Mark’s clothing neatly and setting them by the bath before heading out of the room.

Mark savored his bath until the water grew cool and his fingers wrinkled. He stepped out of the tub and toweled himself off, waiting until after he was dressed to call the servants back to take care of the tub. As Bob and Wade carried the tub into the garderobe to dump the bathwater down the hole (and rinse out the pit at the bottom), Mark eyed the wall where he now knew a servant’s entrance hid. Could he? _Should_ he?

With a mental apology to the men he was starting to consider his friends (though he wouldn’t trust either of them with a secret), Mark pried the door open and slipped through while the servants were in the other room. His shoes still rang loudly on the stones in here, but the tight halls between the walls were blessedly empty in this section of the palace.

Mark went down and over and around, ducking past servants who barely paid him any mind the further he went from his rooms. He found another set of stairs going up and climbed, figuring an exit was out of the question now, but some exploration certainly wasn’t. Mark sang a picking rhyme under his breath with every new door he passed, ending on a nondescript one in the middle of a hall. He pushed it open and eased through as quietly as he could manage.

It was hard to tell the intent of this room. Undyed linen sheets covered all the furniture, transforming the living space into misshapen lumps and bumps. A single lamp was lit, burning on a desk, casting strange shadows across the walls. There was an open door to the left, with another lamp within, but Mark’s attention was caught by a family portrait hanging between two windows. He picked up the lamp and approached it, staring up at a family of McLoughlins.

King Patrick was obvious in this picture, looking just like the sole portrait Thomas had as a gift from one of the Emerald ambassadors. He sat in the center, with a woman who could only be Florence, his queen, at his side, a baby in her arms. Four children stood around them, each with bright blue eyes and chestnut hair dyed with green. The two boys had green on top of their heads, like their father, while the girls sported green sections in their braids. From what Mark had seen of the guards and servants, green-streaked hair was fashionable, but only the royal family wore so much. Mark held the lamp up higher, wondering which of the two grinning princes was Sean.

“What are you doing here?”

Mark turned quickly, nearly dropping the lamp as he was startled. King Seán himself stood in the open doorway, scowling at Mark. “You’re not supposed to be out of your room.”

“I got bored,” Mark said. “I told you I’d only be okay for a day or two.”

“You managed seven. I was hoping you found some inner peace.”

“Inner peace? _Me_? Fuck that.” Mark turned back to his scrutiny of the painting, ignoring how the king came up behind him. Seán had plenty of excuses to murder him already. He was safe(ish) around the Emerald king. “I’m never at peace. Not when there are so many secrets to explore.”

“This is not one you are meant to find.”

“Is this your family?” Mark continued on as if Seán wasn’t obviously trying to get him to back away from the painting. “You all look so alike. Are you the boy on the left or on the right?”

“Prince Mark, this is not your place.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t even tell me _that_? I knew you had siblings, just didn’t know how many!”

Seán was silent, glaring at Mark’s ear with his arms folded, but then he closed his eyes. “Neither.”

“Are you not in this painting? Were you the painter!?”

“No.” Seán sighed, then cast one arm up, gesturing at Queen Florence. “I’m there.”

“...the queen?”

“The _baby_.” Seán rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Mark turned back to the painting, his mouth hanging open. “Wait… you’re the _baby_? Do you have some bass-ackward inheritance laws here or something?”

“They are the same laws you have in your countries,” Seán said, folding his arms against his chest again, but this time, there was a bit of a hunch to his shoulders. “Perhaps a bit more liberal, if anything. Women can inherit the throne as well, in birth order.”

“And these are all your siblings?” Seán didn’t answer, but Mark just had to glance at him for the confirmation he needed. This was clearly a touchy subject. Mark couldn’t resist. “Did you kill them?”

“What sort of monster do you think I am?” Seán hissed, a green-eyed glare whipping toward Mark. Mark held up his hands defensively, his gaze unwittingly drawn to the iron crown Seán still wore. Was he going to bind Mark with the emeralds again?

No. Seán closed his eyes, his posture sagging. “There was a plague,” he said. “Rich or poor, noble or common, it didn’t differentiate. We all got sick. They didn’t survive.”

“And you did?” Mark was not trained as a healer, but he couldn’t be a TigersEye without picking up _some_ of the gentler art. Now that he was actually _looking_ at Seán, he could see all the signs. The pallid skin, not quite fitting over a body that had wasted away in a bed. The sunken face, the smudges under his eyes...Seán had only recently risen from his death bed to command a country.

“No, I died too.” The sarcasm dripped off Seán’s words, his eyes cracking open in a weak glare.

“How long ago was this?” Mark asked, looking back at the portrait. Seven happy people, a large family, all gone, all dead, except the one baby in the middle wearing their iron crown.

Seán didn’t answer. Mark pressed harder. “The servants you sent me sometimes still call you Prince or Highness. They aren’t be accustomed to calling you King yet, so it couldn’t have been that long ago…”

Seán’s arms pressed tighter against his chest. “Two months,” he murmured, his voice as solid as the gauze winding around his body.

Two months. Mark bit his lip, then sidled a step or two closer to the king, unsure if a hand on the shoulder or hug would be more appropriate. Seán growled under his breath at Mark. “Don’t even think about it.”

Mark tucked his hands behind his head, playing innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Seán glared at Mark before turning away, stalking back toward the other room. Mark followed him, for lack of anything better to do.

“How old are you, anyway?” Mark asked, stopping in the doorway. This was a bedroom, a bedroom with much more personality than any of the others he had seen before. There was actual _color_ in this room, with the bed made in bright red fabrics and trophies decorating the walls. Seán sat on the bed, curling his legs up beneath him, and Mark knew instinctively that this was Seán’s old room, from when he was still a prince, the youngest of five, nowhere near the throne.

“How old do you think I am?” Seán asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Uh… I pegged you at about ten years older than me when we first met.” Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “But now I’m not so sure…”

“Ten years _older_!?” Seán gaped at Mark. “Try a year younger! I’m twenty-six!”

“Oh. _Really_? You’re younger than me? But you’re…”

“I’m _what_?” Seán demanded.

“...a king?”

“I’m king because my family is dead,” Seán spat. “That’s what happens, regardless of age. You of all royalty should know that.”

Mark shut his mouth, remembering all too well how it had felt when his father died. Even though he had been anticipating it, moving a step closer to the throne had terrified Mark. He couldn’t imagine how Thomas had felt, actually ascending to _be_ the king.

How much worse must it have felt for Seán, who had likely never even imagined being Crown Prince, much less actual ruler?

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mark said, finding he actually meant the words this time. “That’s some… that’s some jack shit luck you’ve got.”

Seán closed his eyes, grimacing as if in pain. “Jack,” he said quietly. “That’s what they used to call me. Nobody calls me Jack anymore. Jack is not a kingly name.”

“Why Jack?” Mark asked.

Seán was quiet for a minute, slowly looking up at Mark. “I...haven’t the faintest idea,” he said, his voice tremoring on the edge of a crack. “My mother always insisted it was a nickname. I never thought to ask…”

“...I could call you Jack?” Mark didn’t like the lost expression on the Emerald king’s face. Seán was aloof and cold and poised, not a lost young man mourning his family. Jack, though...Mark could see the grieving boy on the bed as a Jack.

Ah, but that glare was all Seán. Mark smiled anyway, moving to sit beside him. “No, really. I could call you Jack. And…I could help?”

“ _Help_?” It should not be possible to fill one word with that much scorn, but Mark was learning the mountain accent was capable of just about anything. “You can’t even help by staying put in your room. What could you possibly do to help?”

“I’m an heir,” Mark said with a shrug. “I got all kinds of lessons and stuff on what to do should something happen to Tom, god forbid. Did you get any lessons like that?”

“I have advisors,” Seán said coolly.

“Yeah, but I have sass.”

“Sass?”

“I make you laugh.” Mark reached over to poke Seán in the arm.

“You have not made me laugh _once_.”

“I _could_ make you laugh. And that’s important. A good king needs to laugh.”

“You could not make me laugh.”

“Wanna bet?”

Seán eyed Mark warily, his mouth pinching smaller. “...no.”

Mark grinned, triumphant. “I make you laugh,” he said. “Even if it’s only inside your head. You haven’t called for your guards, after all. You _like_ me being here.”

“You overexaggerate your qualities,” Seán retorted. “I haven’t called for my guards because you’re still stupid enough to wrap your head in tigerseyes with no defense. You can’t possibly hurt me.”

“I can’t help it if I’m proud of my birthright.”

“And yet you do not value pride.”

“I value life more.” Mark turned to look back at the door to the other room, the room with the family portrait. “Your Majesty...Jack. Be honest with me...will I ever be allowed to go home?”

In the course of fifteen minutes, Mark had learned more about the Emerald Division than any of Thomas’ experts. For a kingdom that thrived on secrets, Seán... _Jack_ had certainly been giving up a lot.

To his credit, Jack did not turn away from Mark. He was silent until Mark swung his gaze back to the young king, and then he slowly shook his head. “You already know the answer to that. I _am_ sorry. You were not supposed to have been brought here.”

“So why don’t you just kill me?” Mark asked quietly. “Aren’t I more trouble than I’m worth?”

Jack sighed. “Right now, you’re still useful as a bargaining chip, despite your trouble.”

“But not one that will ever be released.”

“Your brother doesn’t know that.” Jack met Mark’s eyes. “I’m sorry. This is how politics are played.”

“I know.” Mark fisted his hands over his thighs, breathing slowly. “I just...I hate this. I hate your kingdom. I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s very nice when the sun comes out, but it’s cold and wet and dead and there’s nothing to _do_. I’ve read every book you’ve given me, and I’m so sick of chess. I miss my family and my dog and my home and flowers, and I have nothing to distract myself _from_ missing them. If I’m going to be here forever...If I’m never going to leave, could it really hurt to let me loose on more of the palace, at least?”

“Considering that the first time you were let loose on the palace, you cut me, and the second time you were let loose, you found your way to my private rooms, yes, I think it might actually hurt.”

“Does it help if I’m sorry I cut you?” Mark asked sheepishly. “Is it healing? I could take a look at it…”

“Our healers may not be from TigersEye, but that doesn’t make them any less capable, thank you all the same,” Jack said with a twist of his mouth. “You are very adept with a sword. The wound is not severe.”

 _That’s not the only thing I’m adept with_ , Mark’s mind supplied, but his brain helpfully silenced it before it could get out. The last thing he needed was to insult Jack, or make him think Mark needed a whore after all. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Jack reached up to shove his fingers through his hair, grimacing when the green strands got tangled in the iron spikes. Mark couldn’t quite hide a smile. Clearly, Jack was about as accustomed to his crown as his servants were to seeing it on him. He reached over to straighten Jack out, ignoring the dark-eyed glare he got in return (though Jack didn’t try to stop him). “You are difficult to contain, Prince Mark.”

“Please, just Mark,” Mark said. “I actually really hate being called a prince, unless I’m _trying_ to act like a dick. I just hate feeling like I’m somehow entitled to being considered ‘better’ than others, just because of my family.”

Jack stared at Mark. “You _are_ better than others, because of your family.”

“You know what I mean,” Mark said. “Yeah, the royals make the tough decisions, but we still eat and sleep and shit like the common people. We’re not _better_.”

Jack reached out and touched a finger to one of Mark’s tigerseyes. Mark nearly flinched at the Emerald king leaning in so close. “Only those of royal blood can call the gems to life,” he said. “Do they teach you _nothing_ in TigersEye? You _are_ special, because of your family. Even if you do have one of the shittiest gems on the hierarchy, it’s still better than having no gem at all.”

“...do you not shit?” Mark asked, keeping a straight face only from years of practice on Thomas. “Even with gem affinities, we’re not _better_. Different, yeah, I’ll give you that, but not _better_.”

Jack stared at Mark. There was a definite twitching in his lower face. Mark kept his expression as solemn as possible until Jack turned away. Then he leaned in close, over the king’s shoulder, to whisper in his ear. “ _Made you laugh_.”

Jack drove his elbow into Mark’s ribs, and Mark toppled onto the bed with a hearty belly laugh of his own. Jack’s shoulders were shaking, and Mark relished in the muffled giggles the king was so desperately trying to hold back. “Okay,” Jack said, wiping his hand over his face. “ _Okay_. You have sass.”

“And I can make you laugh,” Mark said, pointing at Jack. “You _need_ me.”

“My sisters used to make me laugh,” Jack said quietly. “And my brothers.”

“You need me,” Mark repeated, sitting up again and reaching out to take Jack’s forearm. His fingers touched his thumb as he curled his hand around it. The king was _so_ thin. How bad had this plague been? “Don’t keep me caged, Jack. Just let me help. However I can. However you need. Please. I just want to _do_ something.”

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” Jack said, looking down at Mark’s fingers around his wrist. “It certainly doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I understand,” Mark said.

“I want you to wear emeralds.” Jack looked up sharply at Mark. “If you want to be out of your cage, then you _must_ wear a leash. Emeralds. Not tigerseyes.”

“Wait, but…”

“And _I_ will hold onto your gems.”

“You can’t just…”

“You’re asking me to trust you with my kingdom,” Jack said. “With our _secrets_. Even if you do nothing more than organize books in the library, you are asking me for far more than we have ever given _anyone_. And you have already proved you are difficult to contain. You miss your family. You want to go home. I cannot give you more information and simultaneously give you opportunities.”

Mark didn’t _need_ his gems. He didn’t even really need their protection. The tigerseyes were _home_ , though, all he really had left. He felt naked without them, only removing them to sleep or bathe, and only for the shortest amount of time possible. The gems stayed beneath his pillow at night and by his side in the bath. Bob hadn’t even tried to touch them. You _don’t_ mess with another man’s gems. His hands had unconsciously crept up to cover the arm bands he wore. “But…”

“If you want me to trust you with my kingdom,” Jack said, every word deliberate, “you _will_ surrender yours.”

“What will you do with them?” Mark’s heart was pounding in his chest, irrational fear flooding his limbs and tightening his throat. He would not _die_ without his gems. He didn’t even have to give them up! It was an option, just an option, a trade. Gems for freedom.

“I’ll keep them safe,” Jack said. “I’ll store them with my other personal treasures. And if, at some future point, I decide that you are actually trustworthy...I may give them back.”

“May?” Mark asked.

Jack’s blue eyes almost seemed to grow softer. “I won’t harm them, Mark, no matter how much you vex me. I will not sell them, gift them, or trade them away. They will remain _yours_ , but in my care. And you will wear my emeralds.”

“So you can control me.”

“So I can control you,” Jack agreed. “If necessary. I hope it will not be.”

Mark’s hands tightened around his gems, feeling their smooth surfaces against his skin. Emeralds were sharp edges and cold green. Tigerseyes were warm and soft. They were nothing alike. Mark would always know the difference, without even needing to look at them. “Can I keep one?” he asked, hating how high his voice went when he was genuinely scared.

Jack looked Mark over, then leaned in and pressed his finger to the gem that hung around Mark’s neck. “You may keep this one.”

Mark closed his eyes, forcing a shaky breath out of his lungs. If Thomas could see him now, there would be more than just angry words. “I want to see where you keep them. How. I want to see that they’re safe.”

“Of course,” Jack agreed with a nod. “You will need to command the emeralds to access my safe. You won’t be able to steal them away even if you know where they are.”

Then only the royal Emeralds could access that safe, and according to Jack, the royal Emeralds were down to just one sole survivor. “What if something happens to you? What if you die, and they’re locked away forever?”

“That _would_ be unfortunate,” Jack said, climbing off the bed and stretching. The green gauze fell in waves around his body. Mark wasn’t quite distracted enough at the thought of losing his gems to _not_ eye the king’s lean frame with more than a healer’s eye. “You’ll just have to make sure I don’t.”

“You _would_ be the only king to have a bodyguard from an enemy state.”

Jack smirked over his shoulder. “Unconventional is the Emerald way.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Mark _hated_ the emeralds. He was always catching their green glint out of the corner of his eye, wrapped around his arms, and he was acutely aware of the chill from the gems bound against his forehead or piercing his ears. His affinity to tigerseye had screamed when he first wore the emeralds Jack provided him with. Now it just snuffled, tucked down small in his chest, hiding behind the lone tigerseye Mark had been permitted to keep around his throat.

Jack seemed content with seeing Mark leashed. He never fed his power into Mark’s emeralds, and for that, Mark was grateful. Bad enough he had to wear the alien gems. If Jack tried to control him with them… Jack poisoning his tigerseyes had felt like enough of a violation. Mark could only imagine how much worse it would be coming from Jack’s own stones.

The emeralds did have one other benefit. Jack’s guards did not attempt to make Mark suffer for what he had done to their king. They sniggered when they saw him walk past, bedecked in the green jewels, and there were some stinging comments thrown his way about how he was the king’s trained lapdog, but no one dared lift a hand against someone so obviously marked as belonging to the king. They no longer wore the black gauze masks anymore either, clearly not caring about what he saw. Mark could ignore the comments and laughter. He had to, in order to stay sane.

At least Jack was putting him to work. Mark spent most of his days near the king, serving as a scribe and sitting near him during the smaller meals. He was getting a firsthand look at how the Emerald Division ran and how Jack kept abreast of all the petty little squabbles and concerns that seemed universal. Mark remembered his own days at the TigersEye court, and he did not envy Jack’s position one bit.

Mark wasn’t allowed to sit in on Jack’s council meetings, so he used the time to explore the palace. Eventually, with Wade’s help, he was able to find his way to the stables. Mark loved spending time with animals, and while none of the Emerald horses or hounds knew him, they still recognized a friendly hand. Where TigersEye favored golden hounds bred for speed, Emerald clearly favored size, with huge white and brown dogs full of slobber and happy tails filling the kennels. Their horses, on the other hand, were smaller than Mark was used to, actually ponies, with thicker coats and placid, soft eyes. Mark loved them all. He wondered, if he ever managed to get out of Emerald, if Jack would let him take a pony or puppy with him.

A friendly white bitch named Lucy was on Mark’s mind one evening as he daydreamed by his window. She had recently had a litter, and her puppies were in the adorably chubby, get into everything stage of life. Lucy had rested her head on Mark’s knee all afternoon, consenting to ear rubs while the six pups had clambered all over man and mother alike, chewing on ears and tails and belts. They had been _so friggin cute_!

“Good day?” Bob asked, smoothing out Mark’s bedsheets.

“I love dogs,” Mark answered, turning a grin to the servant.

“I never would have guessed.” Bob picked a white hair off of one of Mark’s sheets and raised an eyebrow at him. Mark grinned sheepishly. “The king has a gift for you.”

“A gift? For me?” Was Jack giving him back his tigerseyes?

Bob nodded, picking up a black bundle from the floor. Mark’s face immediately fell. “No. Absolutely not. It’s bad enough he makes me wear the emeralds. I won’t wear black.”

“You don’t want new clothes?” Bob asked. “You keep wearing that same thing over and over again.”

Mark wrapped his arms around his belly, hugging his white shirt close. “It’s _mine_.”

“These are yours too.”

“I’m not an Emerald. I’m TigersEye. And I _won’t_ wear black. It makes me look dead. It makes everyone look dead.”

“Black is much warmer,” Bob pointed out. “Our fabric helps trap body heat.”

“ _No_.” Mark shook his head firmly.

Bob sighed. “Well then, that’s too bad. I’ll just have to tell the king you refused his gift, even after he sent all the way to the TigersEye Empire for the materials…”

“...what?”

Bob twitched the black cloth covering the bundle back, revealing not a stack of the black bodysuits favored by the Emeralds, but genuine, TigersEye-style clothing, thick shirts and soft suede leggings. Mark about fell off the windowseat trying to get to Bob, sinking his fingers into the white cloth with a happy little squeal he would forever deny making.

“He had this made for you too.” Bob moved to the wardrobe, drawing out a fur-lined cloak. Mark pulled it into his arms as well, burrowing his nose into the fur and taking a deep breath of the smell of _home_. “So, I take it you _do_ want them?”

“Yes!” Mark’s voice was muffled by how much fabric he was pressing his face into. Nothing here was the rubbery black of the Emerald Division, and there was absolutely no green. Whites and browns and golds dominated, with some red detail work, Mark’s favorite color. There was even a sachet of dried lavender tucked into the cloth to keep moths at bay. Mark immediately secreted it into his pocket, sure he was going to sleep with it every night.

Bob chuckled, turning back to the wardrobe and pulling some satchels off a top shelf. “Good. He’ll be happy to hear that, since he’s expecting you to accompany him on the Grand Tour.”

“Say what?” Mark lifted his head from his armful of clothes.

“The Grand Tour. He leaves in two days, and you’re going with him.”

“You keep repeating that like I’m supposed to know what it means. What’s a grand tour?”

“ _The_ Grand Tour,” Bob corrected. “It’s the king’s annual trip down the length of the Emerald Division. Ordinarily, it takes months, but I believe they’re going to be rushing this time, to beat the snow.”

“Why don’t they do it in the spring?” Mark asked. The Emerald Division was almost entirely mountains. He couldn’t imagine trying to travel through them when winter fully hit.

“Usually, they do,” Bob said, his voice growing quieter. “This year, though…”

“Oh.” Mark remembered now. “The plague.” The royal family had actually been some of the last infected by the disease. It had swept through the entire kingdom, decimating the population. Entire villages had died. There weren’t nearly enough soldiers left to man all the fortresses. Food shortages were a very real threat, as the Emerald Division hadn’t been productive enough during their summer of disaster to fill their stores for the winter. The more Mark followed Jack through his daily routine, the more Mark saw of the absolute devastation the Emerald Division was hiding from the world.

“The king can’t _not_ make the Grand Tour this year,” Bob murmured. “There’s too much struggle. The people need to see him, need to know Emerald is still strong. It has been delayed as long as possible, to give him time to recover his strength, but now the weather threatens.”

“Jack’s still weak,” Mark said. “I mean, I’m not a true healer, but even I can see it. The stress of his job saps what little strength he’s managed to recover.”

Bob sighed. “I’m not sure why he’s bringing you along,” he said. “But could you… could you try to make things as easy for him as possible? King Seán is… the people need him. Emerald needs him. No one wants this trip to be his last.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Mark rode alongside Jack, watching the young king with a worried eye. Jack’s eyes were closed, and he swayed along with the motion of his pony. Was he sleeping in the saddle? As long as he didn’t fall off...he could use the rest.

They had been on the Grand Tour for two weeks now, and Mark was acutely aware that he was seeing more of the Emerald Division than any outside ever had before. Not only was he brought into the wealthy noble villas that dotted the mountainsides, opening their doors for the king and his entourage, but he also got to go into the little villages where the actual citizens of the Emerald Division lived and worked. He really was _never_ going home. He’d live and die in this gloomy mountain kingdom.

Jack found time for _everyone_ on the tour, greeting peasant and lord alike, marveling over a child’s toy the same way, whether it was a jewel-encrusted doll of a little lady, or a hand-carved wooden horse of a villager. Among the people, Jack _smiled_. He smiled and laughed and praised, clapping hands to shoulders, hugging wizened old women, and pressing kisses to the rosy cheeks of babies. He seemed lit with an inner glow, riding all morning and dancing all night, singing songs in the ancient tongues of the mountain.

Only Mark saw him at night, when the last fires were doused and Jack retreated to the most lavish bedchamber the local lord could provide. As soon as the door closed behind him, Jack would stumble, the heavy weight of his iron crown seeming too much for his head. Mark, sharing his room for safety, as a lone Tigerseye among Emeralds was unheard of, eyed with suspicion, would catch Jack’s arm and help him to the bed, stripping off anything spiky or extraneous. The first time he’d tried to remove Jack’s crown, Jack had caught him by the wrist and glared green-eyed at him, but he very quickly relented, allowing Mark to set it gently by the bedside.

Not even Jack’s servants were allowed to tend to the king until after he was asleep. Mark wasn’t entirely sure why. Surely Jack’s personal servants were aware of his fragile health. Perhaps Jack was afraid they would gossip too much. He needed to exude an aura of strength to keep his kingdom stable. If the servants undermined him with gossip…at least Mark had no other friends to talk with. He had no one to whisper about how he’d get the king down to just his bodysuit every night, tucking him beneath goosedown quilts, the king fast asleep before Mark had even finished.

“I could kill you right now,” Mark murmured once, crouched beside Jack’s bed and watching his pale face. “Kill you and go home.”

“But you won’t,” Jack murmured back, not as asleep as Mark had thought, though his voice was heavy with fatigue and he didn’t even open his eyes. “I have your gems.”

“Your own little hostages.” Mark sighed, then leaned over to press a kiss to Jack’s temple like his mother used to, when she would still tuck him in. “Good night, Jackaboy. I’ll guard your dreams.”

In the morning, Jack did a little better, letting his servants help him get washed and dressed and fed. Mark kept out of the way, sitting on his pallet bed and trying not to look too worried at how muted Jack was. As soon as the doors open and Jack returned to the public, though, life came flooding back to him.

His eyes were always green-tinged now, Mark had noticed. Jack was drawing strength from his emeralds when he mingled with his people. That wasn’t good. It could keep Jack going, but not unlimitedly. When this Grand Tour was over, Jack would need at least a week of rest.

Mark was half-tempted to stop denying that he was a healer. The healers of TigersEye City were the best in the world. If Mark claimed to be one of them, perhaps he could have enough sway to get Jack’s advisors to tend to his duties while Jack slept away the last vestiges of the plague that still clung to him.

Was it treason to try to help the Emerald king so much? Mark looked away from Jack, focusing back on the road in front of them. He liked Jack, prickly though the king still was. He was getting better at making him laugh in private, and one of Mark’s favorite pastimes was seeing how many times he could get Jack to choke on his wine when they dined together. It certainly didn’t hurt that the king had a fragile beauty about him, like a dried flower. Was this affection betrayal to his own country? Mark was careful not to tell Jack too much about TigersEye (though sometimes it seemed like Emerald’s spies knew more about his kingdom than Mark himself did), and he would _never_ accept a task Jack gave him if he thought it would harm Thomas or his people in any way (not that Jack ever had). He had surrendered his gems to the Emerald king, but Jack had locked them securely away in a velvet-lined box. He had even brought the box along with him for this Grand Tour, so Mark could know that the gems were still safe, even if they weren’t on his person.

A pop of pink in the road caught Mark’s eye, and he almost fell off his pony. “A _flower_?”

“Mm?” Jack cracked an eye open, looking over at Mark, but Mark had already reigned in the pony and was scrambling to the ground. “Mark! What are you _doing_!?”

“It’s a flower!” Mark dropped to his knees in the road, ignoring how he had single-handedly caused the entire procession to stop. A single pink flower was nodding its head in the weak sunlight of the overcast day, the very first flower Mark had seen since he’d been brought to this wet and gray kingdom. “I didn’t know you even had flowers!”

“Get back on your pony.” Jack sounded exasperated, nudging his a couple steps closer to Mark with his knees. “We have plenty of flowers in these mountains. We don’t need to stop for a single blossom in the road.”

“Be careful you don’t trample it,” Mark said, swatting at Jack’s pony. It snorted at him, taking a step to the side. “It’s _beautiful._ ”

Jack cast his eyes upward, sighing heavily. “Mark. Get back on your mount. We have many miles to go still.”

“It’s gonna get trampled anyway.” One of the guards leaned forward over her pony’s neck, smirking at Mark. “We’re not going to bother to avoid it.”

“Heathens,” Mark grumbled, cupping his hands protectively around the little flower. This was the first natural color he’d seen that was not stone or green, and he hated the thought of it getting trampled into the mud.

“ _Mark…_ ” There was a warning to Jack’s voice, and Mark glanced over at him, wondering if the king would wake his emeralds to get Mark back on his horse. Jack didn’t really have the energy to spare for that, but he’d do it anyway, to keep them moving.

Mark didn’t want to force Jack to exhaust himself, so he pinched the flower’s stem, picking it delicately. He hated killing the only flower he’d seen, but it was better to give it a slow death in the sun than to crush it beneath dozens of ponies’ hooves. Getting back to his feet, Mark offered the flower to Jack. Jack declined it with his arms folded, no matter how sweetly Mark smiled at him, so Mark sighed and tucked it behind his own ear, climbing back onto his pony.

“Do you stop for every flower in TigersEye?” Jack asked as the party started forward again.

“Only the beautiful ones,” Mark answered. “So...yes. Yes we do.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but Mark was growing accustomed to spotting the tiny smiles Jack would hide in the corner of his mouth.

“Make you laugh,” he whispered.

“Shut up,” Jack grumbled back.

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

To Mark’s surprise, the lord and lady hosting them that night did _not_ have a massive ball planned. The royal entourage arrived late in the evening, and Jack was immediately swept off to his room where a hot bath was waiting. Mark unpacked their essentials while Jack sank into the tub, sighing away the strains of the road.

“I’m so jealous,” Mark grumbled, glancing back at Jack. Without his black bodysuit, Jack looked like a statue carved of the finest marble, all white skin and defined muscle. Jack was thin from his sickness, but he was still strong enough. “Why do you get the first bath?”

“Because I’m king,” Jack answered, closing his eyes and resting his head against the rim of the tub. “Even if you weren’t my prisoner, I’d still outrank you.”

Mark stuck out his tongue, and Jack flipped him off without even opening an eye. Mark chuckled, turning back to their bags.

“Was the flower really that important?” Jack asked after a while. “It’s just one blossom. It will wilt and fade soon enough.”

“It’s not just a flower,” Mark said, finally leaving the bags to move to the side of the tub. He picked the flower out from behind his ear and offered it to Jack again. This time, the king accepted it, turning it in his fingers and studying the pink petals. “It’s life. It’s beauty. It’s… it’s warmth in a place I thought was frozen, softness in a world of sharp angles. It means… it means maybe I can do this. Live here. For the rest of my life.”

“One flower?” Jack asked.

“One flower,” Mark answered, dipping his fingertips in the warm bathwater. It didn’t rain _every_ day, but near enough, and even on days when the sun managed to pierce the overcast clouds, the air was still damp and chilly. Mark was surprised half the entourage hadn’t gotten sick from the cold and wet. His fingers always felt half frozen.

“In the summer, the mountains are full of flowers,” Jack said, his voice dreamy and quiet. “The sun rolls down the slopes, and the flowers turn their faces toward it, pink and purple and yellow and red. The goats and sheep eat them, of course, but there are always more, always so many more. The air is dry, and rainbows dance in the mountain brooks, fed by the melting snow. The Emerald Division is _not_ without life or beauty or warmth. It’s not without softness.”

“I’d like to see that,” Mark said.

“I’d like you to too.” Jack twisted the flower in his fingers before shoving it back at Mark. “Here, take your flower. Perhaps you can have it pressed between the pages of a book, so you can keep it forever.”

“I’d like you to have it,” Mark said. “To remember me by.”

Jack snorted, tucking the flower behind Mark’s ear himself when Mark refused to pull his hands out of the water, letting the warm water drip from his arm down Mark’s cheek. “What do you think I am, your sweetheart? I’ll only accept flowers from children or women.”

“Do you have a sweetheart?” Mark asked, reluctantly pulling back to adjust the flower. There were some books with the clerks. Surely one of them was heavy enough to press this flower in. “Is there a future Queen of the Emerald Division that you’ve kept hidden from me?”

Jack gave Mark a cool glare, slumping back into the water. “Eventually.”

“You sound so excited.”

Jack sighed. “The current prospects are all much, _much_ older than I am. They were meant for my brothers. We’re currently trying to find a suitable match, but… it’s hard to play fresh politics without insulting the previous choices.”

“How fun.” Mark leaned against the side of the bath. The heat from the warm metal soaked through his shirt, a poor substitute for being submerged in the hot water himself. “Are you going to marry someone from the Emerald Division, or out of the country?”

“Emerald,” Jack answered immediately. “We do not dilute the blood with foreigners.”

“Do you dilute the blood with _anything_?” Mark asked, looking back at Jack. “Because inbreeding can cause things like double noses and no chins.”

Jack splashed Mark with a growl. “What sort of barbarians do you think we are?” he demanded. “We wouldn’t inflict that upon our families. The Emerald Division is large enough that I can find plenty of potential wives not related to me.”

“So is TigersEye,” Mark said. “Actually, it’s huge, and I _was_ expected to find another royal match, to strengthen our union. Preferably a Ruby. I guess I’m freed from that now.”

“Lucky you.” Jack sighed, rolling his head to the side so it rested against the back of Mark’s shoulder. “Would you have gotten to pick your bride?”

“Mmhmm. We both would have.” Mark stayed still, letting Jack rest. “The council would suggest good alliance matches, and they would get to veto anyone they felt was truly unacceptable, but we could veto anyone they suggested that we did not get along with. Largely, we had the freedom to find someone we could love. Thomas needed a woman, but I could marry either gender. Provided they were royal, or at least noble.”

“I don’t have that restriction,” Jack said. “Emerald, and not related to me. And female, obviously, for the sake of children. I must continue the royal line. Other than that, theoretically my choice, regardless of their status. Actually, decided by my advisors, after we discuss the best match to not insult too many people or bestow too many honors upon an undeserving family.”

“What were your restrictions before the plague?” Mark asked. “As the fifth child?”

Jack huffed a little against Mark’s back. “Anyone I wanted,” he said quietly. “As the fifth, I was allowed to marry for love.”

“Did you have a sweetheart then?”

Jack was silent. Mark looked over his shoulder at the king. Jack’s face was screwed up in a grimace, his eyes clenched shut.

“She died?” Mark asked quietly. The plague that had swept through these mountains had killed so many.

“He did.” Jack pulled away from Mark, sitting up in the tub. “Fetch me a towel. The water’s still warm, you can have a bath if you’d like. I need to speak with Lord O’Dell before dinner. He has twin daughters near to me in age.”

Mark got to his feet, his head reeling at the admission. Jack... liked men? No wonder he was so unenthused about the prospect of finding a bride. “Your health should come first,” he told Jack as he helped the other man dress. “Don’t worry about marriage until you are well again.”

“I am the _last_ of the royal line,” Jack said. “I need to ensure it is preserved in case I am never well again.”

Mark met Jack’s eyes, holding the iron crown between them. “But how will you do that if you’re stressing yourself to exhaustion?”

Jack couldn’t hold Mark’s gaze, his eyes dropping across his face. “I will do my duty to my people,” he said quietly. “To my kingdom. My own sacrifices are small, in the face of all they endure.”

Mark lifted the crown, setting it on Jack’s head. Those blue eyes lifted back to Mark’s, and Mark was struck by the sea of loneliness behind that seemingly-calm stare.

“Thank you.”

Mark remained quiet as Jack swept past him, straightening his spine at the door before re-emerging into the public eye. Jack _was_ a king, for all that he had been forced into the role. He loved his people, even as it killed him inside. _Try to make things easy on him,_ Bob had asked. Mark was starting to understand why.

He was starting to want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't fully decided on an update schedule for this one. Since it's only three chapters and True to Yourself is already getting M/W/F, I may do part 2 on Tuesday and the epilogue on Thursday. Will that work for everyone?


	2. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Mark wants to protect Jack for Jack's own sake, things are getting a lot harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more mature than the last. The warnings apply.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who has taken a chance on this story! I've really loved reading and responding to all of your comments! It really makes my day! <3

“I want you to stay in the room tonight.” Jack stood in the center of their shared bedroom several weeks later, arms held out from his sides as two servants tucked and pinned the gauze around his bodysuit in the intricate patterns of a formal gala. Mark was only just starting to recognize the differences between Jack's various looks. He certainly would never be trusted with recreating the delicate pleats and folds.

“What? Why? I thought this was supposed to be a grand party.” Mark was slouched in an armchair, watching the dressing performance with interest. “You've never had a problem letting me go to the parties before. I'm a Novelty.” He pronounced the capital N without much of a sardonic inflection. Most of the pale-skinned, light-haired Emeralds had never even seen a man with black hair or tan skin, much less a member of another kingdom. He always acquired a flock of curious party-goers at the balls, especially young women who giggled when he looked at them but didn’t accept his offers to dance. Mark was always on his best behavior regardless of how he was talked _about,_ like he were less than a person.

Jack gave Mark a sour look over his shoulder. “Is it not enough that I command it?”

One of the servants discreetly tipped Jack's head toward the front again as she worked on a fold of gauze behind his neck, and Mark had to grin. Jack was the highest ranked man in the room, but when getting dressed, even he had to be obedient.

“I'm not one of your subjects, to obey your every whim.”

“You're my prisoner. That should make you all the more obedient.”

“I think the words you're looking for is unruly.” Mark caught the eye of one of the servants and winked. She giggled, coloring prettily. Jack's dressers were accustomed to Mark by now. They seemed just as amused by his antics as their king, no longer treating him like just an object.

Jack wasn't much in the mood for amusements, though. As soon as the dressers stepped back to examine their work, he waved them out the door. “Mark, for one night, just stay in this room.”

“Have I ever stayed in a room you locked me in?”

“ _Mark_.” The gauze swirled around Jack as he walked, a physical depiction of the emerald power he wielded. Mark felt his mouth go dry as Jack planted his hands on the armrests and leaned in. “Please. One night. Stay put.”

That _please_ did peculiar things to Mark's stomach, combined with the gentle scent of pine that clung to Jack's skin. _Down, boy._ Ever since Jack had admitted to a previous male lover, Mark had been having a harder and harder time not reacting to the king's maddening presence. Jack was strong and fragile, sharp and gentle, and Mark always had been drawn to dichotomies. Male or female, it had never mattered to him. He loved the heady rush of pride whenever a particularly spiky individual lowered their guard to let him in. Jack was the king of spines, a ball of icicles wrapped around a tender heart. Mark wanted to bask in his warmth.

“Why should I?” Mark asked on the second try, needing to lick his lips to find enough moisture to speak. Jack glanced down at the gesture, his bright eyes catching on the tip of Mark's tongue, but he recovered quickly.

“Because I asked.”

“Give me a real reason.” Mark curled his fingers around Jack's slim wrists, leaning in just a little closer to see how Jack's breath caught. “Give me a real reason, and I'll behave.” He wanted to nuzzle into Jack's neck, to taste that strip of flesh right at the edge of Jack's high collar. He didn't. It was difficult.

“Because it's dangerous.” Jack closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “We're very close to the Sapphire Sea here. More people side with Sapphire than with TigersEye. There may even be some Sapphire delegates at this party. I'd rather they didn't see you.”

“Are the Sapphires the ones who actually kidnapped me?” Mark asked, releasing Jack's wrists.

Jack didn't answer, just opened his eyes and meet Mark's with a steady stare. That probably meant yes, but Jack would never confirm. “Will you stay here?”

Mark frowned, but he nodded. Annoying Jack was one thing. Antagonizing TigersEye's greatest enemy was something else entirely.

“Thank you.” Jack straightened up, checking his crown as he turned toward the door. “I will try to keep the night short.”

“You'd better,” Mark said. “We have a long ride tomorrow. You need sleep.”

Jack nodded an acknowledgement as he strode into the antechamber and out of their borrowed suite. Mark sighed, sinking back into the chair. He had a long night ahead of him, it seemed.

A long, _private_ night. A slow smile spread across Mark's face at the thought. Ever since this Grand Tour began, Mark had spent every night sleeping in the same room as Jack. Stealing a moment of personal time had not been possible. Jack was a very light sleeper, despite his exhaustion, and the last thing Mark wanted was to wake him with an embarrassing moan or whispering his name.

Jack was out for the night, though, and all of the servants would be on hand around the ballroom to ensure things went smoothly. There was no one around to stop Mark from closing his eyes and replaying Jack’s husky _Please._

 _Please. One night._ In Mark's mind, Jack wasn’t just standing over him but was actually climbing into the chair, straddling Mark's lap and looping his arms around Mark's neck. _Please. I need you._ Gauze and bodysuit would not be enough to conceal Jack's erection, pressing hard and hot against Mark's thigh.

Mark pressed a hand against his crotch, giving himself something to rub up against as he mentally seized Jack's hips, aligning him better. There was nothing frozen about this imaginary Jack. He would throw his head back as their cocks rubbed together, a heady moan pulled from his chest. Mark would seize the opportunity, diving in to taste the pale expanse of Jack's throat, sucking dark bruises into his white skin. Jack had claimed Mark with his emeralds, but Mark would use his mouth to sear his mark into the Emerald king for his entire court to see.

Jack would be so eager and agitated, thin fingers scrabbling at Mark's belt and buckles, pulling his leggings loose and curling his fingers around Mark's heavy cock. Mark wouldn't be able to grab him fast enough before Jack was sliding between Mark's legs, pressing his thighs apart and greedily wrapping those pink lips around his head.

Mark groaned quietly, tugging his laces open and slipping his hand inside. Jack had been with a man before. There would be no hesitation, just a green head sucking him down, hot and wet and tight around his dick…

A door opened.

Mark caught his breath, listening carefully. Someone was in the other room. Jack? Biting his lip, Mark tucked himself away, dragging his tunic out to cover the bulge in his leggings, and went to the bedroom door. “Jack? Did you forget…”

That wasn't Jack. Mark stared at the stranger feeling up Jack's sword. The man stared back. _He's not one of ours…_

“What are you doing?” Mark demanded, striding into the room. “Who let you in here?”

“I could ask the same of you...Prince Mark.” The stranger dressed in black like an Emerald, but his accent was thick and sapphic. “Fancy meeting you here, and all bedecked in emeralds no less. A kept toy for the king?” The man's eyes slid from Mark's flushed face to his disheveled tunic and his smirk only grew. “Getting started without him?”

Mark felt his cheeks burn hotter at what this had to look like, but he didn't let his own embarrassment slow him down. The sword in the room was Jack’s, but he'd let Mark have one of his own knives back. Mark drew it now, storming across the room.

The Sapphire man held up a blue-ringed hand. “ _Stop._ ” Mark felt the command like a punch to the chest as his one remaining tigerseye flared under the blue power. He couldn't move forward, his own body locked into place.

Where Jack wielded his power delicately, cushioning senses and slipping into your skin, this man was more like a sledgehammer, like iron manacles, like chains wrapped around Mark's lungs until their very weight was suffocating him. The man yanked his hand down and Mark dropped to the floor, the impact jarring up his knees.

“I can't say I blame the king.” The Sapphire stalked toward Mark, threading his fingers into Mark's hair and pulling up to tilt his head back. Mark sneered, loathing gem hierarchy with all his might. “You _are_ a pretty picture like this. Has your dear brother figured out where you are yet?” He pushed Mark's head down, mashing Mark's face into his groin. Mark snarled, trying to bite through the thick fabric. At least he still had some control above his neck. Sapphire couldn't control emeralds so easily, and Mark had only emeralds around his head. “Does he know that you whore yourself out to his enemies?”

Mark managed to get his teeth into the growing bulge of the Sapphire's dick, barely managing to nip before he was being smacked away with a backhand that left his ears ringing.

“Little bitch,” the other man growled, rubbing his hand over his groin. Mark struggled to back away, to shout for help, but his body insisted on betraying him, held in thrall by his poisoned gem. “I _was_ just going to let you suck me off, but if you're in a bitey mood, we'll just have to play another way.

Mark strained against the gem-hold, managing to twitch his fingers on one hand. Not enough, it wasn't enough! He needed more air, to be able to scream…

The Sapphire picked up his knife, sneering at the tigerseye decorations before coming to kneel between Mark's legs. He shoved them apart roughly, touching the point of the blade to the seam of Mark's straining leggings. With barely any pressure, the sharp knife split the stitches open. The Sapphire pressed harder than necessary, drawing stinging lines of blood across Mark's inner thighs.

“Look at you now,” the Sapphire purred, pushing the ruined fabric away and baring Mark from the waist down. “You _want_ this. You _like_ it.”

Fear and panic were keeping Mark's earlier erection from flagging, and he hissed as the Sapphire man closed his fist around it. _Let me go, let me go, let me go!_ He couldn't struggle, couldn't fight back against this complete control the other man held over him. He couldn't kick or punch, couldn't close his legs or twist away. He could only feel sweat-sticky fingers gliding up his shaft, bringing him unwanted pleasure. He _did_ manage to spit at the other man, grateful Thomas had taught him the art of target spitting when he was eight.

The Sapphire growled, wiping the smear of saliva off his face. “Oh, you'll pay for that, little prince,” he snarled, slashing the knife down repeatedly, slicing Mark's tunic to ribbons and cutting into his chest. Mark hissed in pain, but he couldn't even squirm away from the attack. “I'm going to fuck you with your own knife,” the man spat. “And then I'm going to drape you in sapphires and have you begging for me to fuck your bloody hole. And _then-_ ”

“ _What_ is going on here?”

Mark had never been more grateful to hear the imperial anger of King Seán. Jack loomed in the doorway, his eyes dark green, the gauze of his formal wear blazing with the power of his emeralds.

“ _Get away from him._ ”

The blue-tinged tigerseye on Mark's chest pressed tighter against him, squeezing the air from his lungs. As Mark gasped for breath, Jack went for his sword.

“ _Don't!_ ” Mark wheezed, managing to turn his head toward Jack. It was enough to make Jack hesitate. The Sapphire man lunged for the door, bolting into the dark halls beyond.

Jack turned slowly to Mark, his eyes cold. “You _wanted_ me to let him go?” His gaze swept down Mark's exposed, ravaged body, a sneer curling his lip when he saw Mark was still shamefully hard.

“No...I…” Mark was struggling for breath, his tigerseye still heavy with sapphire taint. Jack snorted, flicking his hand. The gem flared brightly, briefly shone green, and then Jack dissipated the power with another wave of his hand.

Mark sat up stiffly, dragging his legs closed and curling his arms around his wounded chest. “He was doing something to it. Your sword. I interrupted him…” Mark tucked his face against his knees, shivering in the cold room, not wanting to look at Jack, not wanting Jack to look at him.

Jack was still for a moment, and then his shadow crossed the room. Mark jumped as a blanket was settled around his shoulders, but he clutched gratefully at the wool, daring to look up again. Jack wrapped another blanket around the sword, taking it to the door. “Take this to Daithi. Have him examine it. Don't let anyone touch it.”

Mark dropped his cheek to his knees, shivering again. His breathing was shallow and quick, and he felt cold, so cold. Jack came back into the room, but Mark didn't look up.

“You're hurt?”

Mark shook his head, closing his eyes. “All shallow. I just need to clean them.”

“I'll send for a healer.”

Mark shook his head again, sharper this time. No healer. No new stranger between his legs. “I can manage.”

“You're cold? You're shivering still. I'll...come closer to the fire.”

Mark let Jack seize him by the arm, drawing him to his feet and helping him to the settee in front of the fireplace. It was a little warmer here, warmer still when Mark drew his legs up and tucked them under the blanket. The ragged remains of his leggings still clung to his lower legs. He'd liked those leggings. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and his throat was feeling swollen and tight. _Oh gods, do not cry in front of the king…_

“I didn't,” Mark whispered, “I didn't invite him in…I didn't _want_ him to…”

Jack patted Mark's shoulder awkwardly. “I believe you,” he said, voice a bit stiff. “Why would a TigersEye prince want enemy royalty anyway?”

 _I wanted you,_ Mark couldn't bring himself to say. His pleasant, private evening had been utterly ruined, and he couldn't even bear to turn into Jack for comfort. He had no friends here, no family. He didn't even have a dog he could curl his arms around, with thick fur to hide his tears behind. “He was royalty?”

“He commanded sapphires,” Jack said. “It's unlikely he was one of the princes themselves, but I wouldn't be surprised if he were a cousin. He definitely had royal blood, to get you on the ground.”

At least Jack wasn't saying _told you so_ to Mark's insistence on keeping his weak tigerseye. Mark suspected he really would break if Jack reminded him it was his own pig-headed stubbornness to blame for his vulnerability.

Jack leapt to his feet when there was a knock on the door, hurrying to answer it. Mark curled himself in tighter, listening to the urgent whispering without being able to make out the words. Daithi was one of Jack's advisors, with a stronger, thicker accent. Mark could barely understand him when the older man was speaking clearly.

Jack thanked Daithi and closed the door. After a moment, he slipped into the bedroom, only the faint creak of the door marking his passage. Mark didn't look up until the cushions dipped again. Jack sat beside him and held out a familiar box.

“Wha…?” Mark lifted his head, his heart pounding in his throat for the second time that night.

Jack smoothed his hand across the lid, a line of green fire drawing behind each of his fingers. The lock clicked, and Jack opened the box. Mark's tigerseyes were within, nestled snuggly in their bed of velvet.

“What did he do to the sword?” Mark asked, unable to resist reaching out for his stones. Jack made no attempt to stop him as he gathered up his headband and pulled it into the blanket, hugging the warm stones against his chest. Tigerseye was weak, but it was _Mark’s._

 _“_ Poison,” Jack said softly. “If I'd touched it, I probably would have died. Potent and absorbed through the skin…thank you. You saved my life.”

“You saved mine,” Mark admitted. “I think that makes us even.”

“It does. And it means you've earned some trust. You do not need to wear my emeralds any longer. I remove your leash.”

Mark closed his eyes, pressing his stones closer to his heart. Jack sighed and rose to his feet, leaving the open box beside Mark.

“I'll post guards at the door and send for some bandages,” he decided. “And then I'll have some words with our hosts. You...You rest. And take the bed tonight.”

“Jack…”

“You're _injured_ ,” Jack said with a shake of his head. “I can sleep anywhere. You deserve some comfort.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

It had taken Mark far longer than he would have liked to dress his wounds, pull on fresh clothes, and climb into the pallet bed originally made up for him. When he woke, he was in the luxurious feather bed meant for the king, with Jack tucked in behind him, one hand draped possessively over his side. His lavender sachet and tigerseyes were tucked beneath his pillow. Mark could smell the faded scent of the flowers and feel the reassuring warmth of his stones. He snaked one hand up to touch them, running a finger over their smooth curves. The gems pulsed gently at him, trying to give comfort. Tigerseye had betrayed him, but it still loved him.

“How are you feeling?” Jack’s words were a murmur against the back of his neck. Mark shuddered, curling away automatically. He regretted it instantly as Jack pulled his arm away, moving  back to give him space. He wasn’t scared of _Jack_.

“Sore,” Mark sighed, reluctantly pushing himself up. The cuts across his chest stung with every movement, pulling at the healing flesh. Riding was going to be a _bitch_. “I’ll be fine. You? You used a lot of energy last night…”

Jack echoed Mark’s sigh, sitting up and pushing his fingers through his green hair. “Exhausted. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to... but I think we need to.” Mark flinched, and Jack grimaced. “I know. I hate it too. What happened to you was bad enough, but there was a fucking _assassination_ attempt on me. Neither of us are safe here.”

“Do we have to stay _here_?” Mark asked. “Our host wasn’t very effective last night…”

Rubbing his hands over his face, Jack thought aloud. “We could always move to an inn or something, though they would be ill-equipped for a party of our size and status. Tullamore was our next planned stop, but it’s a seven-hour ride through the mountain pass.”

“Through the mountain pass, so it would put the mountains between us and the sea?”

“ _Seven hours_ ,” Jack repeated. “I’d fall asleep in the saddle, and you...are injured.”

Mark ducked his head at the reminder that Jack had seen _everything_ last night, had seen Mark spread and hard and bloody beneath the Sapphire twat. “I can ride,” he insisted.

“Mark…”

“I can ride, if it means we get away from the Sapphires. I don’t want to be anywhere near them. I don’t want _you_ anywhere near them.” Mark pushed his hair back, snaking his other hand beneath his pillow to touch the tigerseyes again. “Would we really be any safer at an inn?”

“No,” Jack admitted.

“Then let’s leave today. We can rest in Tullamore.”

“If I fall off my pony…”

“I won’t let you.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

It was barely ten minutes after setting out that Mark was already regretting the ride, despite Jack insisting on padding his saddle with extra lambswool. (Jack insisted on padding everyone’s saddle for the long ride, so there were no snide comments thrown Mark’s way about his nighttime activities.) Jack kept looking over at Mark, but Mark grit his teeth and forced himself to push through the stinging pain. After an hour or so, it was all numb anyway. So were Mark’s fingers, from clutching the reins so tightly in the cold.

By the time they reached Tullamore, Jack was drooping low over his pony’s neck and Mark’s legs felt like they were on fire. He was the one to all but fall off his pony, triggering one of the guards to actually help him to the room he would share with Jack.

None of the entourage was commenting on what had happened the night before. There were a few whispers, a few knowing glances, but nobody said anything about how Mark had been soundly thrashed and nearly fucked. If he overheard anything at all, it was about how Mark had saved the king. That explained the lack of emeralds. Once Jack permitted him to stop wearing them, Mark stripped the green stones from his body and tucked them away deep into one of their bags.

He hadn’t replaced the tigerseyes. Jack noticed the next day, after getting a solid twelve hours of sleep. Mark had managed to get up and dressed without waking him, a first on this entire trip. They hadn’t shared the bed again. Jack hadn’t offered, and Mark wasn’t sure if he even _could_ ask.

“Where are your gems?” Jack folded one leg beneath him as he joined Mark on a bench overlooking the valley, keeping several feet of distance between them. It was a gray and rainy day, but the wind was sweeping the water away from the windows. The view wasn’t much, but the lightning arcing across the sky was entertaining enough for Mark’s weary mind.

Mark touched a pouch around his waist. “I have them with me, don’t worry.”

“But you’re not wearing them?”

Mark twisted away from Jack's emerald-tinged gaze. “You’ve seen what even wearing one can do. I believe it was you yourself who called me an idiot for wrapping my head in such a weak gem.”

Jack sighed. “Well yes, of course, if you refuse to defend with them…”

“There are no defensive spells on these stones that can block the hierarchy.”

“Not defend with _spells_ ,” Jack said with a dismissive hand wave. “Defend with the stones themselves.”

Mark glanced at Jack with a frown. “With the stones?”

Jack’s eyebrows went up slowly. “You know...call on them?”

“Call?”

Mark hadn’t thought it was possible to make Jack’s jaw drop open in shock. Now that he knew it _was,_  he wished he had done it on purpose.

“You...don’t know how to call on your gems?” Jack sounded like he was being strangled, needing to force the words out. “What the _fuck_ do they teach you in TigersEye!?”

“Tigerseyes aren’t powerful like emeralds,” Mark pointed out. “There’s not much they can do.”

“Yes, but even the most cloudy opal can put up a good defense if combined with strong enough willpower.”

Mark still looked blankly at Jack. He knew what spells had been layered over his gems and which ones were passive and which he could activate with the right command word. He had never even heard of calling upon a tigerseye before, not the way Jack could wield emeralds

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Jack murmured. “No wonder you didn’t even put up a token resistance the first time. Mark, theoretically, a tigerseye can hold off a _diamond_. Offense is hard for the weaker gems, but any stone can defend someone with a matching affinity. Put on your tigerseyes.”

Mark recoiled at the thought, covering the pouch with one hand. He didn’t ever want to feel that vulnerable again. He’d much rather the feeling of empty nakedness that came without the gems on his body than the one of actual nakedness and complete lack of control that came with a Sapphire or Emerald royal commanding his body.

“A weapon you don’t understand belongs to your enemy, Mark,” Jack said quietly. “Put on your gems. I’ll teach you how to defend yourself. I won’t hurt you. You have my word.”

Jack’s blue-green gaze was steady and soft, reassuring despite the power within. He reached out to cover Mark’s hand with his own thin one, his fingers cool. Mark closed his eyes, hesitating, but then he opened the pouch and drew out his headband.

“May I borrow your knife?” Jack asked, holding out a hand once Mark had fastened all the gems in their rightful places. They hummed to him, warm and loving, and Mark hated that he felt afraid.

Still, he drew his knife and offered it to Jack hilt first. Jack held it up in front of Mark’s face. “Close your eyes.” When Mark only eyed him skeptically, Jack smiled. “Close your eyes and _trust_ me.”

Jack’s emeralds could easily overpower Mark with or without the knife. There was no reason for Mark to fear it. He closed his eyes.

“Feel the tigerseye?” Jack touched the hilt to Mark’s nose, letting the tigerseye pommel stone rub against the tip.

“Of course.”

“Keep your eyes closed and follow it with your face.” Jack drew the knife away, waving it slowly in front of Mark, up and down, left and right. Mark dutifully turned his face toward the knife wherever Jack took it. “Good, good. How are you doing this, Mark? How do you know where the stone is?”

“I just... _do_.” This was nothing new. Mark knew where the stone was because he knew where the stone was.

“Does it sing to you? Reach to you? Can you see it?”

“It...hums,” Mark said, trying to explain. “It’s golden. And warm.” He couldn’t _see_ it, not exactly, but he knew where it was, like looking at a lamp with closed eyes.

“That’s the song of your stones,” Jack said. “That’s the first step, just feeling them. Now reach out for it.” Mark lifted a hand, and Jack swatted it away lightly. “Not with your _hands_ , with your mind. Feel this stone that I’m holding. Try to...try to find out what it thinks of me.”

“It’s a _stone_. It can’t think.”

“Tsk tsk.” Jack swatted at Mark’s arm again. “For shame, Fischbach. To most people, stones are merely stones. To those of us with affinities for them, stones have _souls_. Try harder.”

Mark took a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut. He’d always thought of his stones as having personalities, but he had never voiced those thoughts to anyone else, for fear of being called crazy or stupid. What Jack just said resonated with him, echoing his own feelings so perfectly that he couldn’t believe Jack didn’t understand. Maybe he _wasn’t_ just hyper-imaginative.

Keeping his hands locked together in his lap, Mark strained to reach for the stone Jack held, imagining a hand coming from his mind to touch it. The stone hummed and sang. It was small and imperfect, used as a pommel stone for decoration because it wasn’t good enough to be true jewelry, but it did its job well and it was happy for it. It washed over Mark’s mental hand, twisting through his imaginary fingers and purring like an oversized, invisible cat. Mark jerked at the sudden affection, and he heard Jack’s smile in his voice.

“They love it when you reach for them. Gems are like overeager puppies, really. They don’t know what you want, but they want to give it to you. You need to guide them, train them, with a firm hand and plenty of love.”

“Love is easy,” Mark said. “I love all my stones.”

“Don’t be afraid of them,” Jack said. “They know they’ve hurt you. I’m sure they’re sorry. Try one of the ones you’re wearing. Not the one around your neck, not yet. That one will hurt the most. Try a forehead one. Those stones let you down when I seized them.”

Mark drew back from the happy knife stone and touched his mental hand to the stone on his forehead. This one was more subdued, a strain of sadness running through the tiger’s gold. _It’s okay,_ Mark reassured the warm little feeling. _I’m not mad._

With Jack’s help, Mark coaxed happiness back into all of his gems. The one around his neck _did_ hurt the worst, a blast of self-loathing swamping over him the moment he reached out for it. Mark gasped for air, but Jack took his forearms, murmuring softly in the mountain tongue and sweeping his thumbs down Mark’s inner arms until Mark could wrestle his way back to the top of the emotions. He hugged this gem, cradling it close, forgiving it. He _did_ love his stones, even this one.

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Jack said, when Mark finally opened his eyes. He cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Your eyes are still gold. It suits you.”

“My eyes?” Mark reached up to touch below his right eye. “They turned gold?”

“Like tigerseyes.” Jack brushed his fingers over one of Mark’s armbands.

“Like how yours turn green?”

Jack nodded. “You really do have an affinity for your gems, Mark. What we went through today usually takes weeks of training for a young Emerald royal, if not months, and we’re not taught with injured stones. You really do love your tigerseyes, and these all know you and love you well.”

“I’ve had them for years,” Mark said, reaching up to stroke his neckband. He could feel its purr beneath his fingers. “All my life, really, refitted every time I outgrew the leather, more added as needed. These two,” he touched the one around his neck and the one in the center of his forehead, “were my first.”

“Then they will be your strongest.” Jack touched the large emerald set in the middle of his throat. “This was my first. It can anticipate my desires now, defending me even before I realize I’m under attack.”

“Will mine ever be able to do that?”

“ _Absolutely_.” Jack spoke with conviction. “You’ve already laid the groundwork for their love and trust. Now you just need to train them. It may take years yet, but you will reach a point where even I can’t break your defenses.”

“Will I ever be able to break yours?” Mark asked. “Could I ever control you, like you controlled me?”

Jack shook his head. “Tigerseye can never attack and defeat an emerald. It can only hold its own ground.”

“But what if you let me?” Mark asked. “Just for practice? What if you _let_ me take control?”

Jack hesitated, then shook his head again. “No...I don’t think you’d be able to. I’m a king, you see, and you’re only a prince.”

“So?”

“It matters.” Jack touched his crown. “The way the stones are set into these points, the location of my armbands, hell, even the draping of the gauze I wear, it all amplifies the stones’ power. This is what an Emerald king wears, and this is what emeralds respond best to. I felt the difference the moment the crown first rested upon my head. Your stones are puppies, eager to please, to love you. My stones are their adult forms, powerful beasts of crystal that would stop at nothing to defend me. I doubt they would allow you to have power over me, even if I tried to let you.”

“What if you weren’t wearing your crown?” Mark asked.

“Well then, I’d be asleep. Or in the bath. I hope you don’t try to control me in the bath.”

 _What if you were naked and spread on the floor, wearing nothing but your emeralds?_ Mark wondered. _Would you let me then? Would you_ trust _me?_

 _Would I trust_ you _?_

“You’re going to need your rest tonight,” Jack said, oblivious to the thoughts inside Mark’s head. “You might not feel it now, but you will be very worn out. It gets easier, I promise. Try to reach out to your gems whenever you can. Strengthen your bond. Get them used to hearing you answering back. We can work on actual commands in another day or two.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

Jack rose to his feet, resting one hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I just wish I had known you didn’t know this sooner,” he said quietly. “The other night might never have happened…”

Mark reached up, covering Jack’s hand with his own, saying nothing. Jack stood there for a minute, but then he squeezed Mark’s shoulder and drew away, excusing himself with the need to actually work while he was here.

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

They stayed in Tullamore for a week, five days longer than originally planned. Tullamore was at the furthest end of the Emerald Division. The procession took the opportunity to rest and restock their supplies before turning back for the Emerald Palace. Every day, Mark woke up and reached out to his stones. Just as Jack had said, they truly were puppyish, but each day they grew a little older, a little wiser, a little more aware. Calling them to his defense was easier than Mark thought it would be. He just had to touch them and think about what he wanted. At first, he needed full phrases: _block the emeralds from poisoning you, bring heat to your cores._ Jack assured him that with practice, though, he could drop the phrase down to just a word, and with enough experience, the gems could react even to feelings. Jack’s emeralds, for example, knew when he was starting to feel cold and warmed themselves to warm him. Mark had wondered how Jack alone could survive in these mountains without sleeves, much less an actual cloak.

When they left Tullamore, Mark’s cuts were all but healed and Jack actually had a touch of almost-healthy color to his skin. Snow was falling high in the mountains, but it was still rain at the roads they were traveling on. Mark sighed, tucking himself deeper into his cloak. If he never saw rain again, it would be too soon.

The mountain streams were swollen into white-frothed torrents, racing beneath oversized stone bridges. Jack noticed Mark’s frown as he tried to figure out why the bridge was twice the size of the heaving river below and nudged his pony a little closer. “This is the early winter,” he said. “When the snowmelt happens in the spring, these rivers look like barely a trickle. We build the bridges for the worst-case scenarios.”

Mark turned wide eyes to Jack. “These rivers get _bigger_?”

“Where do you think the plains rivers come from?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. “Our mountains feed your rivers. That is a _lot_ of water.”

“Huh.” Mark looked over the side of the bridge again, contemplating the water below.

They spent two nights in travelers’ inns, as there were very few towns on this stretch of the road, picking up weather forecasts (increased rain, joy of joys) and reports of the road ahead (increased bandit activity, your Majesty, do be careful). Jack was scowling by the third day. Mark knew he hated threats to his kingdom, especially from within.

“Maybe they’ll be foolish enough to attack us?” Mark suggested. “We can deal with the threat now, instead of needing to send troops back to secure the roads.”

“We can only hope,” Jack sighed. “Go to the guards, make sure you actually have a sword of your own. If we do get attacked, I don’t want you vulnerable again.”

Mark nodded, seeking out some of the friendlier guards to get armed. His knife alone wouldn’t be enough to hold off bandits desperate enough to attack the king.

As they suspected, the attack came when they were crossing one of the bridges. Black-clad robbers materialized from the trees, filling the bridge from both sides and blocking the party in. Mark’s pony whickered, tossing hers head nervously. Mark patted her neck, easing closer to Jack, before setting his hand on his sword.

Jack sat tall and straight on the back of his black pony, his emeralds filling with green fire. “You know who I am,” he sneered imperiously at the bandits. “To attack would be treason. Let us pass, and we’ll let you live.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” and there was a mocking sarcasm to the title spat by the apparent leader, “it’s only treason if we’re Emeralds.”

A volley of arrows flew from the trees at the pinned party. Jack shouted and flung his hand out, deflecting most of them with a green barrier. Blue fire sizzled from the hands of one of the so-called bandits, and Mark hurled himself in front of Jack, screaming at his gems to deflect the power.

The attacks were coming from both sides, with arrows from the sky. Mark and Jack fought side-by-side, their legs bumping together as their ponies wheeled and turned, keeping them abreast of the action. Mark’s shields weren’t as good as Jack’s, useless at a distance but decent enough to block the swords of the bandits that had gotten past the guards. He was just able to keep the sapphire taint from seeping into his stones, fighting off his own fear as he battled the enemies swarming them.

Jack’s pony screamed, rearing back as two arrows slammed into its side. It pawed at the air, eyes rolling madly, while Jack clawed at the reins, trying to keep from falling. It was a perfect scene from a nightmare, green fire illuminating the Emerald king as his mount took a step back, hitting the edge of the bridge.

“ _Jack!_ ” Mark lunged off his pony, just managing to catch Jack as he toppled over the side. His sword clattered away, both hands busy with gripping Jack’s thin arm. Jack’s eyes were wide with fear, his damp fingers clutching at Mark’s bracers as the river surged around his dangling feet. “I’ve got you, Jack, I’ve got you,” Mark grunted, trying to pull Jack back over the edge.

Jack gasped, his face going even whiter, as he looked beyond Mark at something behind him. Mark slid his foot back, bumping into another person, before a ringing blow caught him behind the ear and he pitched forward, his world going black.

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Mark’s stomach twisted when he woke up, his mouth already tasting of bile. He coughed and gagged, dry-heaving into the dirt beneath him. Cool fingers slipped around his head, turning him down and drawing his hair back. “Mark?”

There was nothing for Mark to throw up, despite his stomach’s best efforts. He pushed himself up, wiping his arm across his mouth, and looked blearily around.

Jack was crouched beside him, the ever-present circles beneath his eyes even darker now, a sickly green glow from his throat emerald casting an unhealthy pallor over his skin. “You’re awake,” he breathed, cupping his cold hands around Mark’s face and studying him intently. “Can you see me? You look like you’re able to focus…”

“Head hurts,” Mark grunted. _Everything_ hurt, and his bones ached from the cold. “‘M okay.”

“Liar,” Jack said, but he wrapped his hands around Mark’s fingers. “Come on, you need to warm up.”

Jack drew Mark closer to a small fire. They were in a room of sorts, half rock walls, half scavenged timber lean-to. Sticks and stones were scattered around the room, too deliberate to be wind-blown. They looked like toys, in a way, Mark noted as Jack settled down beside him. Those two sticks with the bark stripped off most of them were obviously swords. Those curved sticks had string tied to the ends: bows. There were little men and horses roughly whittled out of wood or tied together, little carts with loads of pebbles. “Where are we?”

Jack shrugged, pulling Mark’s cloak around both of their shoulders. It was damp but warm from the fire, and Mark tugged it closer. “I think we found a child’s playhouse.”

“How…?”

“We fell into the river. Do you remember?” Jack’s shoulder was cold against Mark’s side. Mark shifted to wrap an arm around the Emerald king. Jack tensed for a moment, but then he allowed the touch, pressing closer to Mark’s side. His crown was absent and half of his remaining emeralds were dull and lifeless, drained by overexertion.

“There was a battle…”

“Sapphire pricks masquerading as bandits,” Jack sneered. “Two attacks on Emerald land in two weeks. We have a breach in our defenses.” His anger faded as quickly as it had risen, and he sagged against Mark. “And I’m stuck at the bottom of a river, unable to do anything.”

“It could be worse,” Mark murmured. “You could be dead.”

Jack closed his eyes, nodding stiffly. “ _You_ could be dead,” he murmured. “That was a nasty blow you took. I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up.”

“Takes more than one hit to get through a Fischbach’s thick skull,” Mark reassured Jack, rubbing the other man’s arm. “Though I won’t lie, I don’t think I want to try walking anytime soon.”

“Probably for the best.” Jack shivered, and Mark pulled him even closer. Their legs were pressed together beneath the cloak. Jack shifted, twisting onto his side and drawing his legs up. The new position wedged Mark’s thigh between Jack’s knees, but let Jack tuck himself tighter against Mark’s chest.

“Cold?” Mark asked.

Jack nodded, his face tight. “I can’t…I don’t have enough energy left to keep myself warm,” he admitted, barely any strength to his voice.

“What?” Warmth was one of the first things Mark managed to do with his stones, something so easy it took practically no thought. Stones knew heat, loved heat, radiated heat easily. If Jack didn’t have the energy to spare for _that…_ “What are you burning for, if not heat?” He touched a finger to the glowing emerald at Jack’s throat.

Jack didn’t answer at first. Mark sighed, wrapping both arms around Jack and pulling him into his lap. The prickly king didn’t complain, just tucked a cold nose against Mark’s neck. Mark reached out to his gems, feeling their concern and reassuring them that he was fine, he had survived the river. _We helped!_ they sang to him. _We helped we kept you up we kept you warm!_

 _Thank you,_ Mark told them, trying to sort through the feelings they were throwing his way. The gems had wrapped around him in the river, shielding him from the icy water and keeping him from drowning as best they could. The green one--Jack--had pulled him out the rest of the way once he came to a stop. _Can you keep him warm now?_

The tigerseyes gave off a friendly warmth, pulsing around Mark’s arms and throat. They were tired but not drained, not the way Jack’s emeralds were. He had been drawing from the green stones too much, for too long. The fall into the river must have killed what little strength they had left.

Jack sighed as the warmth began to creep into him, one hand sliding down to cover the heated tigerseye around Mark’s neck. Mark reached up to cover those cold fingers with his own, bending his head to rest his cheek against Jack’s green hair.

“I’m sick,” Jack finally whispered. “The plague, I never… I never recovered. We don’t wear our emeralds to bed, so when we bedridden...no emeralds. My family died, one by one. The kingdom was panicking, and I… I couldn’t allow myself to go too. Not until there was an heir.” He shivered in Mark’s arms, fingers clenching around his gem. “Wade brought me my emerald. It’s been holding off the disease, but… it froze it, it didn’t heal it. Emeralds can’t heal. When its strength is depleted...when it’s exhausted, I _will_ die.”

“Jack…” There was a cold pit in Mark’s chest, and he squeezed Jack tighter against him.

“I wish you had been a healer,” Jack whispered. “I don’t want to die.”

“I won’t let you,” Mark said. “Jack, I won’t let you die, okay? I promise. I’ll find a way to fix this.”

Jack gave a hoarse laugh, shaking his head. “What could you possibly do?”

“I don’t know.” Mark sighed, pressing his nose against Jack’s hair. He smelled like the river now, but there was still a trace of pine clinging to him. “For now…keep you warm.”

Jack tipped his head back to look at Mark, a tired defeat in his green eyes. Mark’s heart seized in his chest, and he leaned down, touching his mouth to Jack’s. Jack sucked in a sharp gasp against his lips, but he didn’t pull away. “I won’t let you die,” Mark repeated, his words mixed with Jack’s breath. “I promise.”

Cold fingers snaked around the back of Mark’s head, and Jack pulled him down into a proper kiss. “I trust you…”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Hours later, the fire was barely embers, but Mark couldn’t bring himself to get up. Jack was curled against his chest in an exhausted sleep, his arms tucked between them, fingers cupping Mark’s tigerseye for warmth. Mark held him like the world was conspiring to snatch him away. Maybe it was. He closed his eyes, pressing his nose to Jack’s hair. _Mine_.

The obvious solution was to get to TigersEye. They had been washed down the mountain on the TigersEye side of the Emerald Division. If they kept heading down, surely they’d cross the border. Once in TigersEye, Mark could easily command a healer to tend to Jack. A true healer of TigersEye City would be able to save Jack’s life. Mark had no doubt of that, no matter how severe this mountain plague was.

Of course, taking Jack into TigersEye would encourage all kinds of unpleasant questions. Mark had been missing for _months_. Thomas was likely beside himself with worry, if not convinced that Mark was dead. It would be hard to convince him that Jack had not hurt Mark, or kept him against his will. Perhaps Mark had been an unwilling prisoner initially, but now… Mark sighed into Jack’s hair. Jack mumbled unintelligibly into Mark’s chest, his fingers twitching once before he settled down again. Now Mark wanted to hold Jack in his arms, keep him close to his heart, for the rest of his life. Now he didn’t care _where_ he lived, so long as Jack was with him.

Fresh emeralds were another option, perhaps. Jack had exhausted most of his gems. They might recover, given time. In the short term, new emeralds might have the power to keep Jack going. He wouldn’t be as in-tune with them, but if all tigerseyes reacted to Mark, surely all emeralds reacted to Jack.

Mark had no idea where he’d find fresh emeralds around here. If they could get to a town or village, perhaps there would be an emerald they could borrow. All of Jack’s guards wore emeralds. Surely they were searching the river to find Jack’s body.

“We need to risk it,” Mark murmured, smoothing his hands down Jack’s back. They needed to risk _something_. Moving. They had no food. They needed to find sustenance, at least, before Mark ran out of energy and drained his own gems. “Jack. Jack, wake up.”

Jack stirred, coughing weakly. Mark pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We need to get up, Jack. We need to head out.” Jack whined, trying to burrow deeper into Mark’s chest. Mark kissed his hair. “I know you’re cold. I know. But it’s only going to get worse if we stay here.”

Mark felt Jack’s sigh shudder against his chest, fingers clutching briefly at Mark’s shirt, before Jack drew away from Mark and struggled to his feet. Mark rose as well, kicking apart the remains of their fire, stamping the last embers into the dirt.

“Here, it’s yours…” Jack fumbled with the cloak, but Mark covered his hands.

“I have my gems,” he murmured. “You need the warmth more right now.”

“You’re not accustomed to using your stones,” Jack whispered. His voice was raw, croaking in his throat. He sounded so much worse than last night, and so much worse last night than he had just a day before. Mark glanced at the emerald at Jack’s throat, hating how dim it was. “You’re going to exhaust yourself…”

“You’ve already exhausted yourself,” Mark said. “At least I have the energy to keep going a bit longer. We can rest when we’re somewhere safe.”

“But-”

“No.” Mark cut Jack off with a kiss, tugging the cloak snugger around Jack’s thin shoulders. “I’m keeping you alive, remember? Be a good little king and listen to what I’m telling you.”

“I’m supposed to be ordering you around,” Jack murmured.

“Then order me to keep you alive.”

“Keep me alive.” Jack tugged Mark into a whisper-soft kiss. “Keep us _both_ alive.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Jack struggled along beside Mark for hours. When it started to rain and his feet began to slip in the mud, Mark stopped to pull Jack onto his back. Jack had protested at first, but was soon sagged against Mark’s shoulder, his breath hot and shallow against the side of his neck. His weight was a welcome warmth, and Mark eased up on his tigerseyes some as he continued to trudge down the mountain.

Whenever they reached a fork in the path, Jack would lift his head and study their surroundings before giving Mark a direction to take. Mark hoped he was guiding them toward a town. The heavy woods here were not very welcoming. Mark didn’t relish trying to spend the night in them.

As the sun set behind heavy clouds, what little light there had been in the forest was fading fast. There was a small glow in the distance, though, and Mark readjusted Jack on his back and picked up his pace. Was it a fire? Was there another traveler, one who could perhaps share some food?

The glow turned out to be a small campfire belonging to a mother and two young children. They looked up in alarm, the woman immediately stretching out an arm to back her children away from the strange men, but Mark shook his head and sagged to his knees by the fire. “Do you mind if we keep you company tonight?” he asked. “We’re no danger, I promise. I just need to keep Jack warm…”

“Jack?” the woman asked softly, taking in the haggard figure slumped against Mark’s back. “Jack McLoughlin?” Both children perked up at the name, their blue eyes going wide.

Mark nodded slowly, eyeing her warily. According to Jack, only his family ever called him by that name, until Mark came along. How could this stranger know?

The woman smiled sadly and nodded. “Of course you can join us, and share our meal. I am Val. These are my children, Dylan,” she gestured to the boy, “and Pearl.”

“How do you do?” Pearl asked, trying to bob a little curtsey without getting up.

“I do quite well, thank you Miss Pearl.” Mark had to smile at the girl’s young charm. “I am Mark, and this is Jack. We...fell in the river.”

“You do look quite bedraggled.” Val reached into her pack, drawing out some flat bread. “Dylan, give your bowl to Mark. You can share with Pearl.”

“Aw, do I _gotta_?”

“ _Dylan._ ” Val’s stern look was reminiscent of one Mark’s own mother used on him when he misbehaved, and the little boy was cowed beneath it. He scuffed around the fire to offer Mark his bowl of thin soup and brought him the bread Val offered.

“Thank you,” Mark said. “I wish we had something to offer in return…”

Val shook her head, that same sad smile on her face. “There is no need to repay us.”

“We can’t just take your food…”

“Please.” Val lifted a hand. “It would make me happy to see the two of you fed and rested. We can spare some soup and bread.”

Rather than protest a third time, Mark just turned to look at Jack where he rested slumped against his back. His eyes were closed and his face slack. Had he fallen asleep? “Jack?”

Mark hated to wake him, but Jack needed to eat something. He rolled his shoulders gently, nudging Jack awake. “One piece of bread, Jack, and some soup, and then you can sleep.”

“Is he simple?” Pearl asked, dipping her bread in the bowl she was reluctantly sharing with Dylan. “Coran in the village is simple, and he can’t eat for himself.”

“He’s not simple, he’s just very, very tired.” Mark dipped the hard bread in the soup to soften it and held it up to Jack’s lips. Jack gave him a flat stare, a weak version of his old glares, and freed one hand from the cloak to take the bread from Mark, nibbling on it. “And he’s sick, so he doesn’t feel well.”

“Poor wee lamb,” Val murmured. “You can share our tent tonight. It’s not much, but it will be all the warmer with an extra body or two.”

“You really are too kind,” Mark said, watching to make sure Jack ate.

Mark had to all but carry Jack into the tent after he finished the one piece of bread Mark had foisted upon him. Pearl helped fashion a bed out of their blankets, snuggling in beneath Jack’s arm as soon as the exhausted king was in place. Dylan nosed up behind Jack, sandwiching him in. Jack’s green eyes were tired, but there was a touch of fondness as he let them fall closed, succumbing to sleep. He always did love his people so.

Back outside the tent, Val was pouring the last of the soup from the pot into Mark’s bowl. She offered it to him, and the tendrils of steam rising from the top were too tempting for Mark to refuse. He ate with the appetite Jack did not have, careful not to inhale too much of Val’s bread.

“You must have questions,” Val said quietly.

Mark set the bowl down, eyeing the woman across the fire. She was dark-haired and darker-skinned like himself, the first black-haired woman he’d seen in the Emerald Division. “You know him. He didn’t indicate that he recognized you.”

“I know _of_ him,” Val said. “We’ve never been introduced. I doubt he knew of me.”

“You know of him as _Jack_. Only his family calls him that. Called him. And me. I call him that.”

Val looked down at her hands, then tugged one of her leather gloves off. A delicate emerald ring glittered on her third finger. “I _am_ his family. In a way.”

“You’re not one of the McLoughlins.” Mark had seen the portrait in the palace. Val certainly wasn’t Queen Florence, nor was she one of the pale beauties of Jack’s sisters.

“No...but I loved one. Mally. Malcolm.” Val closed her eyes tiredly. “Jack’s older brother. The father of my children.”

“The father…!” Mark glanced back at the tent. Dylan and Pearl had indeed had chestnut hair and bright blue eyes like Jack’s family. They certainly _looked_ the part… “You’re telling me that Jack is curled up with his niece and nephew right now?”

Val’s mouth was tight as she nodded. “But they are bastards, your Highness, and no threat to his reign. They will not try to usurp his throne.”

“Why would anyone think they might...because Malcolm was older.” Mark answered his own question. As the older brother, Malcolm would have inherited the throne before Jack, and any of his children would also have slotted into the line of succession ahead of Jack. If the children had been legitimate, Dylan would have been the rightful king of the Emerald Division, not Jack. His brain waved a flag at another comment Val had made, and he looked over at her sharply. “Your Highness?”

“You _are_ Prince Mark Edward of TigersEye City, are you not?” Val twisted her fingers together. “Only you look so much like the queen, and you wear the gems of the empire…”

“Does _everyone_ in the Emerald Division know the goings-on of my kingdom?” Mark grumbled, drawing a tiny smile from Val.

“It’s doubtful. I know, because I was once TigersEye myself. I remember when you were born, because it was also my birthday, and everyone was waving flags and celebrating the second prince.”

“You’re TigersEye?” Mark looked Val over again. Of _course_ , with her coloring, she couldn’t possibly have been born an Emerald. “How did you end up in the Emerald Division? And mother of a prince’s bastards?”

“It’s a long story.” Val looked away, reaching up to smooth her hands over her hair. “I grew up by the coast. We would be raided by pirates, and they would carry away the young and the pretty.” She shivered. “Mally was in the fleet that liberated the ship I was on. He took care of me, treated me with such kindness and respect...and when we did not wish to be parted, he provided me a home in these woods, where I could live close to the route he would take when traveling his kingdom. He promised me, when he was king…” Val swallowed, curling her fingers and looking at her ring. “When he was king, he would thwart the rule that said Emerald must wed Emerald. He would legitimize our children and make me his wife.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. “I truly am.”

Val shook her head. “Everyone lost at least one loved one in the plague. Mally was mine. I am simply grateful that our children survived. I pray that they continue. Please,” Val reached over to clasp Mark’s hands in hers, her eyes dark and pleading, “please, Jack, King Seán, he seems fond of you. Please tell him I do not claim my children to be royalty, I would never do so. I do not desire the crown, and I do not instill such longing in them. Please, do not let him take them from me…”

“Jack won’t hurt your children,” Mark said. “He would never do that. Surely Malcolm told you that much.”

“He told me of the boy, his beloved baby brother. I do not know the man, the king that he is now, or what desires drive him.”

“Jack would never hurt a child,” Mark assured Val. “If anything...if anything, he will be _grateful_. He’s very sick.”

“I noticed,” Val murmured. “He has the plague?”

Mark nodded. “He says he’s dying. He’s afraid of passing without an heir… but he can’t adopt just any child. To keep the emerald affinity…”

“He must have an heir of McLoughlin blood,” Val said quietly. “Dylan. Or Pearl. They’ve both shown affinities for emeralds. Mally would bring them jewelry, but I make them keep it hidden when we are around others.”

“If I know Jack,” Mark said, “and I think I do by now, he would ask to adopt both as his heirs, and keep you near as their mother.”

“Are you his sweetheart?” Val asked. “You call him ‘Jack.’ Mally said only his family or those he loved dearly addressed Seán so informally.”

“We’re not...I could never give him an heir.” Mark looked back at the tent, wondering for the first time how his life would be different if he had been born a princess of TigersEye City.

“It is easy to love a McLoughlin,” Val said quietly. “They are some of the purest of heart. Mally was, and in his stories, all his family were. I see it in Dylan and Pearl. They suffer so, in the town. Nobody likes a bastard. But they never raise a hand, raise their voices. They endure the taunts and teasing, knowing that come spring, we will retreat back to our cabin in the woods and be happy once more.”

“Is that where you’re going now?” Mark asked, trying to get the conversation away from whatever he felt for Jack. Love was quite a strong word. He was _fond_ of the king, certainly, and he loved to annoy him when Jack was not crumbling from exhaustion or sickness, but _love_? “To the town? A town?”

“Tralee,” Val confirmed. “It is near the border, not far from Nonsan. We spend the winters there, because they are too dangerous to weather alone.”

Nonsan was a TigersEye city in the northwest of the empire, and Tralee was one of the few Emerald towns that admitted foreigners, Mark knew. Much of the trade between the kingdoms passed through these locations.

There would be a TigersEye healer somewhere in Nonsan. Mark closed his eyes to thank whatever gods he knew of. “We’ll accompany you to the town,” he said.

Val nodded and smiled weakly at Mark. “There is safety in numbers.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Tralee was only a day’s walk away. Jack was a bit more alert in the morning, able to eat breakfast on his own, but he was sagging by the time Mark and Dylan had packed away the tent. Mark didn’t even give him an option, just scooped Jack onto his back and ignored the thumps against his chest or the giggling from the children.

Dylan and Pearl scampered ahead and darted back, gathering pinecones and pretty stones to show the adults. They sang songs, some in the old mountain tongues, some nursery rhymes from TigersEye. Mark taught them a few new TigersEye songs, careful not to remember any of the bawdier ones with Val’s sharp eye on him. Jack’s fidgeting fell still when Mark sang, his face pressed against Mark’s throat.

As the sun was setting, the little party came around a bend in the road and saw the walled town of Tralee. Val stopped abruptly, and Mark nearly collided with her back, staring up at the same thing she was.

“Oh no…”

Jack lifted his head, a little gasp of pain escaping at the sight. Snapping fiercely in the wind, dominating the guard towers, were the black and gold flags of TigersEye. Tralee was occupied by the empire.

“It’s okay,” Mark said after a moment. “This is still okay. You guys… you four stay here. Dylan! Stay _here_. Jack needs you to protect him.” He crouched down behind a tree, easing Jack off his shoulders. “I’ll see what’s going on.”

“Mark…” Jack reached up, weakly catching Mark’s fingers. His emerald flickered at his neck, and his eyes were cloudy and just as dim.

Mark lifted Jack’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingertips. “I’m going to save your life, Jack. Just stay here.”

Jack’s hand slipped out of Mark’s and he sagged back against the tree. “ _I trust you…_ ” he whispered.

 _Hurry,_ Val mouthed at Mark, kneeling beside Jack and pressing her hand against his forehead. Mark didn’t need to wait for her verdict. He knew Jack had been burning up with a fever all day. Mark barely had to draw from his tigerseyes for warmth at all, while Jack shivered on his back. How long would Jack have once his emerald gave out? Weeks? Days? Hours?

Mark did a quick check of his gems as he strode toward Tralee’s gates. All present and accounted for. His clothing, while stained and rumpled, were still made in the TigersEye style. Jack had returned most of his royal regalia, save for his weapons and armor. Mark was about as recognizable as he could hope to be.

“Halt!” A TigersEye guard swung a spear in front of Mark, blocking his path when he tried to enter the town. “Who goes there?”

“ _Ryan_?” Mark recognized the face beneath the helm, the cheerful, bearded countenance of one of his best friends, and a member of the royal guards.

“ _Mark_?” Ryan gaped right back at him.

“What the fuck are you doing out here in the Emerald Division?”

“Trying to rescue you! Or, um, those were the orders we’ve been given…”

“Consider me rescued,” Mark said, spreading his arms. “Who’s in charge of this operation? I need to see him at once.”

“Er...that would be Thomas.”

“Thomas is here?” Mark blew out a sigh of relief. “That should make things easy. Where is he, Ryan? I can escort myself.”

“Um…”

Mark took pity on his friend, clapping Ryan on the shoulder. For all that TigersEye’s presence in the Emerald Division terrified him, it was good to see a friendly face again. Jack was wonderful, but he was just one person. Ryan had been Mark’s friend for _years_. “If the walls are secure, I’m not likely to disappear again. In the unlikely circumstances that I do, you have my permission to lie and deny ever seeing me.”

“You’d better not disappear again.” Ryan’s voice was gruff, and he stepped forward abruptly and grabbed Mark in a solid hug. “We thought you were fucking _dead_ , Mark, and then we just thought… we thought you were dead.”

“I’m not dead,” Mark reassured Ryan, rubbing his back, or at least his backplate. “I’m not even really hurt. I look worse than I feel,” _thanks to the tigerseyes._ “But I was traveling with someone who may still die, if I don’t act quickly. Please, Ryan, where is my brother?”

“Town hall,” Ryan said, stepping out of Mark’s way. “Follow this road straight to the center. Can’t miss it.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

The town hall was the only two-story building in a sea of squat houses. Ryan was right, it couldn’t be missed. Mark debated the merits of a dramatic entrance and decided to go for it, flinging the double doors open and letting them bang against the walls.

“...body won’t likely be recovered until spring…” A group of advisors gathered around a table all looked up sharply at the interruption, scowls on their faces. Thomas sat in the middle of them, dressed in blacks and golds, his crown settled perfectly on his long hair, expression somber. He was the first to move, standing up slowly, his fingertips pressed against the table.

“ _Mark_?”

“Hello, brother dear. Did you miss me?” Mark cocked his head to the side and grinned brightly. _Thomas_! Thomas was Mark’s hero, his idol, everything he had ever strived to be in life. Even if he weren’t the king, he was still Mark’s very best friend, trusted and loved beyond all others.

Thomas lifted a hand, crooking one black-gloved finger at Mark. Mark strode forward, parting the advisors so he could stand beside his brother. Thomas carefully pulled one glove off and touched two bare fingers to the tigerseyes around Mark’s throat, then his head, then his arms. They all flared happily at their king’s touch, purely tigerseye, with no taint of sapphire or any other gem. Only then did Thomas smile and fold Mark into his arms. “You have no idea,” he murmured into Mark’s ear.

“I suspect I do,” Mark whispered back.

“You must have quite a tale for us, brother.” Thomas spoke louder now, releasing the hold but clasping Mark by the shoulders. “Come, sit. We’d love to hear of your ordeal.”

“And I will be happy to tell you everything,” Mark said, “but first, I must make a request.”

“Name it.”

“I had a guide, a man from the Emerald Division.” Mark didn’t dare admit Jack was the king, not yet, not in front of all of these people. “He and his family sacrificed much to help me return to you...but he is dying now, sick with a plague that swept the mountains.”

“And your request?”

“I want to bring him here. And his family. Immediately. So that he may be healed by the finest we can offer before it is too late.”

Thomas sighed slowly, shaking his head. “We are at war with the Emerald Division, Mark. We cannot bring more of their operatives into our walls.”

“I made him a promise, Thomas,” Mark said quietly. “His life for mine. He has already saved me more times than I care to count.” Mostly from Mark’s own stupidity. “I trust him, Thomas. I owe him a debt. _You_ owe him a debt. Without him, I would not be standing before you now.”

“You may trust him, but what of his family?”

“They will pose no threat. His sister and her two young children--Thomas, don’t tell me you’ve grown heartless in my absence. They would be defenseless on the road. Only let me bring them here, and I will tell you everything.”

Thomas glanced to one of his advisors. “Healer Minx is available?” He received a curt nod and turned back to Mark. “You have not grown any less pig-headed in your absence. Go. Bring your guide here, and his family. Take a guard with you--Matt!” Thomas waved over one of the royal guards at the door. “Accompany the prince to fetch his guide into the town.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Matt bowed to Thomas and turned to Mark, his eyes bright. Mark smiled at him. Matt was one of his other closest friends from TigersEye City. Matt and Ryan were usually stationed as his bodyguards. Neither of them had been on duty when Mark was kidnapped.

Outside the walls, Mark turned to Matt and raised his hands. “Can you wait here? They’re very scared of TigersEye. I don’t want any of them to run, especially not the children. Let me reassure them that you’re safe. They’re just around that tree.” He gestured and saw Dylan pull his head back quickly. “See?”

Matt hesitated, glancing at the tree. “If you’re not back in _two minutes_ , I will come after you,” he warned Mark.

“Two minutes,” Mark promised, hurrying off.

Pearl had Jack’s head cradled in her lap, and Val was dabbing a damp cloth against his forehead when Mark returned. “How is he?”

“Not well,” Val said. “He started having convulsions. I gave him my ring to hold, and he stilled, but…” Jack’s eyes were barely cracked open, staring blankly into the distance. His left hand was clenched tight into a fist, and the emerald around his throat was dark.

“Damn…” Mark took a deep breath. “Okay. Strip the emeralds off him.”

“What?” Val stared at Mark. “That could kill him!”

“They’re drained, they’re not helping him. Minx, one of the best healers we have, is in Tralee now. My brother said Jack can be healed by her. I didn’t tell him Jack was the king, but if he sees all these emeralds, he’ll know for sure. Take his emeralds off him, I’ll hold onto them. They won’t search me.”

They worked quickly to pull the jewelry from Jack’s ears, his throat, his arms. Each emerald was tucked away in Mark’s pockets for safekeeping. The ring in his hand was the last to go, and Mark had to fight his fingers open. It was already dim and flickering, not accustomed to being tapped by the king. “Hold on for just a little while longer, Jack. Just a little, and then someone else can carry you.” He gathered Jack into his arms and stood. Jack’s eyes slid closed fully, his head lolling against Mark’s chest. “Stay with me, Jack. I promised you I’d save your life.”

Matt’s eyes widened when he saw Mark’s burden, stepping forward to take Jack from him, but Mark shook his head. “You can carry their pack,” he told the guard. “Let’s go.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Thomas found Mark in the house designated for the healers’ use, sitting on the side of Jack’s bed and holding his slack hand. “The intent was for you to fetch your guide to the healers and then return to _me_ , brother-mine. You have not yet explained what happened to you.”

“Hmm?” Mark glanced at Thomas in the doorway. “Oh, sorry.” His eyes drifted back to Jack, though, so pale and small in the makeshift hospital, looking frightfully vulnerable without the sharp emeralds decorating his person. Minx had worked as much of her magic as she dared, and she had assured Mark that Jack would survive under her care, that he was resting peacefully now. Minx was a cousin to the Fischbachs. Mark trusted her judgement, even though Jack looked more dead than asleep. “I just...wanted to make sure he would be okay.” With Jack asleep, Mark dared to reach up and smooth his fingers through the transition from green to brown hair, then trailed them down over Jack’s skin to press against the pulse in his throat, reassuring himself yet again that Jack’s heart was still beating steadily.

“Oh Mark,” Thomas said quietly. “You cannot love this man.”

“But I...” Mark looked back at Thomas. “Wait, what, _love_? I don’t love him, I just, we’re friends, I care, I…” His denials faltered in the face of his brother’s expression, and Mark looked back at Jack, wishing he’d open his eyes again. “Fuck. _Do_ I love him?”

“That’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.” Thomas drew away from the doorframe and crossed the room. His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud after months of the whisper-soft tread of the Emeralds. Mark all but flinched when Thomas set his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “He’s Emerald, Mark. The enemy. Even if we weren’t at war, the Emerald king would sooner kill one of his people than let them leave his kingdom with its secrets.”

“He saved my life,” Mark murmured, squeezing Jack’s limp fingers. “I saved his…”

“And I’m sure he will carry your memory fondly in his heart for the rest of his days,” Thomas said. “But you cannot be with him.”

“We could forge an alliance together…”

“As if Emerald cares politically about the whims of one of their peasants, even if he does have the love of a prince.” Thomas took Mark’s hand in his, gently uncurling his fingers to free his grip on Jack. “Come with me, little brother. We have much to speak of.”

Mark let Thomas lead him to the bedroom he had commandeered for his own, but he stopped just inside the door. Thomas gave him an odd look as he closed the door behind them. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said, bowing his head. “I lied to you.”

“Oh? About what?” Thomas was calm as he walked around Mark, pouring himself a glass of brandy and offering one to Mark as well. Mark declined with a wave of his hand. Alcohol always made him ill, and not merely with hangovers.

“I’m not going to tell you everything.”

Thomas took a sip of his brandy, eyeing Mark levelly from across the room. “Why not?”

“I have the trust of the Emerald king. I won’t, _can’t_ betray it by spilling his secrets. Not even to you. I’m sorry.”

Thomas set his glass down sharply, a frown pulling at his brows. “Mark, I understand you have spent an unheard of amount of time in the Emerald Division. It makes sense that you questioned where your loyalties lay when you were imprisoned, but you are a free man now. You no longer need to bow to their perverse whims.”

“Perverse...is that what you think I’m doing?” Mark asked incredulously.

“You’ve been with the Emeralds for eight months, Mark,” Thomas said. “Your perception of what is ‘normal’ has been seriously skewed. It is a documented phenomenon, where prisoners sympathize with their captors because they are occasionally given scraps of kindness and know just how much worse things could be. They are grateful, and it becomes a warped sense of affection for the very men who imprison and abuse them.”

“ _Abuse_?” Mark repeated. “Tom, do you want to know the sort of _abuse_ I faced at Emerald’s hands?”

Thomas closed his eyes with a grimace, picking up his drink again. “As your brother, no. As your king… you must tell me.” He tossed back the rest of his brandy and reached for the decanter again.

“The first few days were the worst,” Mark said, clenching his hands into fists. “I was locked away in a single bedroom, with a fine bed and thick rugs only covering half the floor, leaving the other half bare stone that froze my feet. I was provided with clean clothes and multiple good meals a day, and books on the history of our kingdom. When I wasn’t reading, I could sit in the window and marvel at the view of the valley. It rained most days, but at night, I could see the moon rising over the mountains. It was _unbearable_. I faked illness and made my escape.”

Thomas opened his eyes to frown at Mark, but Mark continued, his voice growing more heated. “When I ran into the king and held him pinned with my sword, cutting his side open, he invoked the gem hierarchy and trapped me with my own tigerseyes to free himself. His punishment for my transgression involved allowing the servants to speak with me, to bring me games for entertainment and provided reading material that I requested, though nothing on the Emerald Division. I suffered a week like that before making another escape. This time, I ran into the king in his private bedroom, having fled through the servants’ halls. We talked. I learned more about the Emerald Division in ten minutes than anyone else in our kingdom knows of them to this _day_. The king, frustrated with my constant attempts to escape, put me on a leash. He forced me to trade most of my tigerseyes for his own emeralds, so that if I ran again, he could summon me back. In return for my sacrifice, he created a position at his side for me. I joined him for meals and sat in on his court. I acted as a scribe for him. When he left to tour his kingdom, he brought me along with him. I shared his room, and he had an entire traveling wardrobe made for me in the warmest TigersEye fashion.”

“Mark…”

“ _That_ is the abuse I ‘suffered’ at his hands!” Mark snapped. “The king treated me with nothing but respect and consideration, openly admitting to the freedom he could not grant me and yet still doing what he could so I would not feel caged. I wore his emeralds for his own peace of mind, but after I saved his life from an assassination attempt, at a great personal cost to myself, he removed even that restraint, and gave me back my own gems.” Mark gestured at the tigerseyes he wore. “He’s taught me how to call upon them, Tom, how to better defend myself than I ever could before. He showed me his kingdom, introduced me to his people. I cannot, _will_ not betray the rare trust he has placed in me!”

“That is not what we were told,” Thomas said quietly.

“Told?” Mark frowned. “What were you told?”

“Reports from spies told us you were chained in emeralds, forced to serve the king’s every desire.” The way the last word twisted off Thomas’ tongue told Mark where the ‘perverse’ idea came from. “That you were little more than a pet on his leash, your humiliation bringing him pleasure.”

Mark was shaking his head before Thomas even finished speaking. As if Jack had it in him to punish someone with humiliation! “Tom, I have _enjoyed_ the time I spent in the Emerald Division. The weather is horrible, there was almost no color, and I missed TigersEye terribly, but the king was good company and I was largely treated fairly. His guards were mocking at times, but they never lifted a hand against me, even after I stabbed their king. Hell, the _king_ didn’t lift a hand against me, except to stop me from threatening him with a sword! I was never forced to indulge another’s desires or humiliated…” Mark’s voice trailed off, remembering all too well the one time he _had_ been...but that hadn’t been at Emerald’s hands. “Who told you this?” Mark’s voice sounded hollow to his ears, and he crossed the room to take Thomas’ brandy, stealing a sip despite knowing he would pay for it later. “We’ve never gotten spies into the Emerald Division. How could anyone…?”

“The intelligence came from the Sapphire Sea,” Thomas said. “Mark… you _were_ hurt, despite your denials.” He touched Mark’s arm, taking his glass back.

“I was,” Mark said quietly, not meeting Thomas’ eyes. “But not by Emerald. I told you: there was an assassination attempt. I...unwillingly provided a distraction that allowed the king to realize the truth and take steps to protect himself.” _I was pinned to the floor by my own gem, with his filthy hand between my legs…_ No, Mark couldn’t tell Thomas that. Thomas was guessing enough, if he hadn’t been explicitly told by Sapphire already, only with Jack as Mark’s attacker instead of one of their own royalty. “The attack came at the hands of Sapphire.”

Thomas shook his head. “Sapphire has been instrumental in helping us find you, working with us to aid in your recovery. Why would they ever attack you?”

“Helping you _find_ me?” Mark asked. “Sapphire’s the one that took me in the first place! They took me and dumped me in Emerald so that… so that…” He stared at Thomas, realization dawning. “So that I could be their bait…”

“Bait?”

“Bait!” Mark turned and slammed his fist into the wall, barely noticing how the skin split when his knuckles collided with the stones. His tigerseyes were flaring, responding to his anger. “I was fucking _bait_ , so Sapphire could goad _you_ into attacking Emerald! Their ships could never conquer the mountains, but if you went through the land routes, while they removed the king, Emerald would fall and they would stand as the supreme gems, with no one able to oppose them!”

“Be careful of your accusations, Mark…”

“Be _careful!?_ ” Mark spun on Thomas angrily. “We’ve both been _played!_ Emerald has been weakened, and Sapphire is ripping through their remaining defenses. We should be _allied_ with Emerald, not at war with them!”

“Emerald doesn’t ally with anyone,” Thomas began.

“They’d ally with me,” Mark said. “I have the trust of their king. They’d ally with me, and if I spoke for you, they would ally with you. With us. Together, we could drive Sapphire back, keep them in the sea where they belong while Emerald recovers its strength.”

“Their king is dead,” Thomas said quietly.

Mark shook his head. “King Patrick is, but his son, Seán-”

“Went over the side of the mountain in an encounter with bandits,” Thomas interrupted. “His crown was recovered from a river. His body was likely dashed to pieces on the stones. We had heard reports that you went over the side with him, and we would have to wait until spring to have a chance of recovering your body.”

“Reports?” Mark asked, narrowing his eyes. “From _Sapphire_? Tom, how do you think they knew that? _They were the bloody bandits!_ ” He shook his head, clenching his hands into fists again. “They attacked us, they fought with their sapphires. They were no ordinary robbers, but they were trying to assassinate the king again.”

“So you _were_ there. And you got away? How did you…” Thomas’ eyes widened. “Mark, _what have you done_?”

“I fell in the river,” Mark said. “My gems saved me.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“Your ‘guide.’” Thomas pressed his fingers against his temples. “Mark, your guide, tell me he’s just a guide, just a peasant, not actually…”

“He was dying,” Mark whispered. “He needed a healer.”

“He’s the _enemy king_!”

“He’s my friend!”

Thomas’ arms dropped to his sides, staring at Mark in quiet defeat. “And you love him.”

“...and I love him.” Mark kept his eyes lowered at the admission, not wanting to see Thomas’ expression.

Thomas turned away, dragging his hands down his face. “Mark…”

“If you hurt him now,” Mark said quietly, slowly lifting his face again, “I _will_ turn on you. My alliance is still to TigersEye, but while Jack is vulnerable, I _will_ defend him.”

“I don’t need to hurt him,” Thomas said, moving to stand in the window. “From the sounds of things, all I need to do is tell Minx not to treat him.”

“Do that and you’ll lose me.” Mark wasn’t sure if _Thomas_ knew how to call upon the tigerseyes he wore. In a worst-case scenario, he could pin Thomas himself, kidnap Minx, and force her to heal Jack while they ran.

Thomas pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “What do you want me to do, Mark? We have their king. We can end this war with one action.”

“He’s the last of the Emerald royalty, without an heir.” Mark wasn’t about to tell Thomas that the children had emerald affinities. His brother Tom wouldn’t hurt a child, but would King Thomas, to create peace? “If you kill him, the kingdom will fall.”

“And we pick up the broken pieces, absorbing the Emerald Division into our Empire like we have all our other conquests.” Thomas sighed. “We acquire their rich mines with minimal bloodshed and strengthen our position against our enemies, _including_ Sapphire.”

“Absorb the Emerald Division?” Mark shook his head. “Tom, we can’t rule that kingdom. We don’t know the first thing about it.”

“You do, apparently.” Thomas looked over his shoulder at Mark.

“I know enough to know I know practically nothing,” Mark said. “I don’t understand the people, can’t endure their weather. I don’t know their culture or their language or their songs. If we try to rule them, we will only drive them into the dust. They are not like the plains-folk, Tom. The mountains must be held by a mountain king.”

“Then we leave Seán alive, instill him as our viceroy-”

“His pride will not allow it,” Mark said, shaking his head. “ _Emerald’s_ pride will not. If we envelop them, they will resent us for the rest of time. We will forever have a territory trying to undermine us at every opportunity.”

“I thought you had the king’s trust.”

“I do,” Mark said. “And he is trusting me not to give away his kingdom while he recovers. Tom, we can form a strong alliance with Emerald, but that is the extent of what they will allow. And they _will_ allow it. We have a rare opportunity here. We must not squander it.”

Thomas held Mark’s gaze for a full minute before he nodded once. “I will _consider_ it,” he said. “I will not act until I have spoken with Seán myself. Will that be sufficient?”

“For now,” Mark said. “Thank you, Tom.”

Thomas pressed his fingers against his temple again and lifted his brandy to his lips. “And… the ‘family’ you brought with him?”

“They _are_ peasants,” Mark said. It wasn’t even really a lie. Until Dylan and Pearl were legitimized by Jack, they were not truly royal. “We met them on the road coming down from the river. They shared their food and fire with us, and we offered them what little protection we could. I didn’t want them to have to fend for themselves outside the town.”

Thomas sighed and waved a hand at Mark. “Go on, go back to your Emerald king. Send a runner for me when he wakes and is coherent. And have Minx look you over while you are there. You nearly broke your hand on my wall and didn’t blink. I’m worried you have more injuries than you are telling me.”

Mark gave his brother a bow, understanding when he was dismissed. His split knuckles started to sting when Thomas drew his attention to the injury, and Mark looked at them in surprise. He had _punched a stone wall_. He had fallen off a bridge, into a torrential river. He had gone two nights with little sleep, carrying Jack on his back and in his arms for most of it. Maybe Thomas had a point about the healer…

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

It took six days of near-constant attention from the healers before Jack woke up for any length of time, six days of which Mark stayed by his side, coaxed away only to wash or change his clothes or get attention from the healers himself for his battered body. Matt and Ryan were stationed at his door, and only Thomas came to visit. Mark kept his fingers wrapped around Jack’s thin ones, hating how sunken and pale Jack looked. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Mark would have feared Jack dead several times over.

True to his word, Thomas halted the progression of the invasion. He held Tralee but did not make any push forward. No Emerald forces were reported in the woods around the town. Mark wondered if the Emerald Division even had enough soldiers left to reclaim Tralee, or if they had decided the town was lost and they would simply try to prevent Tigerseye from reaching further into their mountains. They had no king. Who was ruling them?

“...Mark…?” Jack’s voice was weak, but he squeezed the fingers curled around his with surprising strength for a man living on nothing but broth and juice for a week. Mark lifted his head to look down at the king, so relieved when those blue eyes opened, clear and focused for the first time in days. “Mark, where...my emeralds!” Jack tried to sit up, grimacing at the sudden movement.

Mark shushed him, supporting Jack’s back with his arm and helping him lean against the head of the bed. “I have them, it’s okay, Jack. I’m keeping them safe.”

“My emeralds, I need…!” Jack pressed a hand to his throat, clawing at the empty spot where his stone usually sat. Mark pulled his hand away, easily able to overpower Jack’s feeble resistance, and pried his fingers open. He slipped the big emerald from his pocket into Jack’s hand. Jack immediately clutched it tight, pressing it to his neck and shuddering.

“You needed to heal, Jack.” Mark drew the other emeralds out, setting them in Jack’s lap before reaching over to rub Jack’s skeletal back. “I didn’t want you to draw from your emeralds while the healers were tending to you.”

“I’ll die without them,” Jack mumbled, petting the stones on his legs.

“No you won’t. You’re not going to die, Jack.”

“I’m...I’m…” As Jack’s panic subsided, he lifted his head again, staring at Mark incredulously. “I _don’t_ feel sick…”

“You’d better not!” Mark grinned, cupping Jack’s sharp cheek and leaning in to kiss his nose. Jack scowled and swatted at him, clearly feeling better. “Our very best healer has been personally caring for you. She says you are no longer infected with the plague. Now you only need to recover your strength.”

“I’m not sick?”

“I told you,” Mark said. “I promised. I wasn’t going to let you die.”

“Heh…” Jack looked down at his emeralds again. “And I trusted you…” A beat later, he had looked up and was leaning in, his dry, cracked lips brushing chastely over Mark’s. “Thank you.”

Mark watched intently as Jack began to replace the emeralds around his body, not lifting a hand to help. “You know, I think I prefered them gone, except for how _dead_ you looked.”

Jack gave Mark a confused look. “Why? My emeralds are part of who I am.”

Mark looked away, then back at Jack, relieved that at least his eyes remained the purest blue and not tinged green in the slightest. “You can control me,” he murmured. “Like…”

“ _Mark_ …” Jack breathed his name softly, thin fingers brushing over Mark’s face. “Mark, I would _never_ do that to you. To _anyone_.”

“I know.” Mark leaned into Jack’s touch, closing his eyes. “I _know_ I can trust you. I just… when you wear your emeralds, you look so cold, and sometimes...sometimes I’m back in that room…”

Jack’s lips brushed Mark’s again, dusted lightly over both his cheeks and the curve of his jaw, the most affection Jack had ever dared to give. Mark folded his arms around Jack’s thin back, crushing him close to his chest. “I’m sorry,” Jack whispered.

“I know.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Thomas gave Jack a day more to recover, to eat solid food and get some real sleep, before he came in to discuss politics. Mark brought Jack his crown that had been recovered from the river, but was otherwise not allowed to sit in on the discussions between kings. Instead, he spent time with Val and her children, shadowed by Matt and Ryan. His friends were so overwhelmingly grateful to have him back that they were determined to not let a single threat cross his path.

“Your brother wants a guarantee,” Jack said one evening. Mark rejoined him for dinners, sharing his room during the night when Thomas was not hashing out a potential treaty. “He doubts my sincerity.”

“If Sapphire has indeed been playing us, I can understand him not wanting to be burned again,” Mark said.

“Sapphire has been playing both of us.” Jack’s mouth twisted distastefully. “But uniting against a common enemy is not enough for him.”

“What sort of guarantee does he want?” Mark asked.

“He has not come out and said it directly, but I think he wants me to marry one of your cousins.”

“Marry a cousin?” Mark glanced at the door, knowing Minx was somewhere in the building.

“I suspect he actually wants me to marry you,” Jack murmured, staring at his hands in his lap. “But I cannot do that, for many reasons. You’re too highly ranked. It would be encouraging the TigersEye Empire to usurp us from within. As a male, you cannot provide me with an Emerald heir, and you are not an Emerald citizen.”

“But not wanting to is not one of the reasons?” Mark teased, even though he was blushing slightly at the thought of his brother trying to matchmake him with the man he was realizing he loved.

Jack gave Mark a flat look. “My own desires are secondary to the needs of the kingdom,” he droned. “What I want doesn’t matter when it comes to who I marry.”

“Would you marry me if I were a woman?” Mark asked, leaning closer to Jack.

“No,” Jack answered softly, closing the distance between their mouths. “For all the same reasons.”

“But I could give you a child.”

“Not an _Emerald_ heir. Your children would also have tigerseye affinities.” Jack sighed against Mark’s lips, dropping his head to his shoulder. “That’s also why I cannot marry one of your cousins. I can’t risk diluting the emerald affinity.”

“What if…” Mark curled an arm around Jack, letting his fingers wander over Jack’s protruding ribs. “What if you just married a TIgersEye _woman_? Not royalty, but one of our citizens?”

“I could do that,” Jack said haltingly. “Of the three reasons why not, citizenship is the weakest.”

“But?” Mark prompted.

When Jack closed his eyes, his lashes brushed against Mark’s neck and made him shiver. “But I don’t want to,” he whispered.

“You’ll want this one.” Mark turned to kiss Jack’s cheek. “I know a woman who would never ask you to touch her, who would ask you _not_ to touch her, and would still provide you with heirs. Two of them.”

“They would have to be _my_ children,” Jack argued, “to have the affinity.”

“No,” Mark said. “They would have to be _McLoughlin_ children. Mally’s children would have the same affinity, the same royal blood.”

Jack lifted his head, a stab of old pain in his eyes. “How did you know we called him Mally?” he asked. “I never told you that.”

“How did _you_ not realize Dylan and Pearl share the McLoughlin blue eyes?” Mark countered. “And Dylan absolutely has your smile.”

“ _Mally had children?_ ” Jack breathed.

“Two of them,” Mark repeated. “And Val says they’re already showing emerald affinities.”

Jack closed his eyes, pressing his hands to his mouth. Mark couldn’t even imagine what was going through his mind, learning he wasn’t the last of his line, that he still had surviving family.

“I’ll bring them to dinner tomorrow,” Mark said. “If Thomas agrees, you can discuss it with all three of them.”

“Thank you,” Jack whispered into his fingers. “Really...what would I do without you?”

“Never laugh.” Mark kissed Jack’s fingertips, smiling as the king opened his eyes to show his own amusement. “I’ll talk to Thomas myself. I can’t marry you, but maybe...maybe I could be an ambassador or diplomat. Thomas always despairs when I’m underfoot anyway. I always get in trouble. Don’t ask him about the cow thing.”

“I am _absolutely_ asking him about the cow thing.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Before Thomas signed the agreements he and Jack had worked out, he insisted that Jack and Val get betrothed. Jack gave her one of his emerald rings but did not ask her to remove Malcolm’s. Their wedding would be later in the winter, after the situation could be fully explained to the various corners of the kingdom and spurned suitors soothed.

With the help of the TigersEye healers, Jack was soon out of bed and walking around again, somehow having acquired a fresh bodysuit. He grew stronger every day, meeting with the people of Tralee and ensuring no one had been ill-treated by the TigersEye army. With his crown on his head again, and his emeralds rejuvenated from their time away from Jack’s drain, Jack looked strong again. He looked smaller and thinner than Mark had ever seen him, but he didn’t look so fragile and ready to shatter.

They didn’t ride out against the Sapphire Sea. Thomas was more apt to believe Mark than his advisors, and Jack had verified Mark’s story, but Thomas still wasn’t sure he wanted to pick that fight just yet. He did offer his army to Jack for support, riding alongside him back to the Emerald Palace.

“Are you ready for this?” Mark asked, the morning before they reached the palace. He was helping Jack get dressed, winding a length of green gauze around him and pinning it where Jack instructed him.

“I’ll have to be.” Jack frowned a little into the mirror. “Higher, Mark, an inch higher, no, that’s too high! There. Now fold it over. _Fold_ , not twist.” He sighed. “I haven’t drawn from my emeralds since you gave them back. They’re as strong as they can be, given the timing.”

“With any luck, the palace will be empty.” Mark twisted and untwisted the gauze, trying three times to get it into the shape Jack was demanding.

Jack snorted derisively. “It won’t be. With how much Sapphire wanted me dead, they undoubtedly have their own asses on my throne.”

“If there’s more than one Sapphire royalty here, I can’t help you,” Mark said quietly. “All I can do is keep myself safe.”

“Your support is enough.” Jack caught Mark by the chin, kissing him delicately. Val was his betrothed, but they all knew it was a marriage for an alliance and not a true union. Jack would continue to kiss whomever he wanted. Today, he apparently wanted to kiss Mark. “Thank you for being here.”

“I’d rather you thanked me for getting you dressed.” Mark accidentally jabbed himself with one of the pins and sucked the injury ruefully. “Ouch! This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done for you.”

“I would thank you if you did a good job dressing me,” Jack said, turning back to the mirror and scrutinizing Mark’s work.

“Well?” Mark demanded, when Jack remained silent.

Jack sniffed. “Passable.”

“ _Passable_?” Mark gaped at Jack’s back as he strode away to pick up his sword.

“Anyone who can read the king’s fashion would consider this absolutely abysmal,” Jack said, strapping his sword beneath the gauze Mark had so painstakingly placed. “It’s just barely battle-garb. The emeralds recognize it, but they’re laughing at you.”

“The emeralds are laughing at me?”

“I guess it’s not just me you amuse.” Jack shrugged, reaching up to check the position of his crown. “The Sapphires won’t understand what’s wrong with it. It was passably done.”

“So no thanks?”

“Ask me again tonight,” Jack said, his blue eyes dark and full of promise. “We’ll know how successful you were then.”

 

@>\---}----~----{---<@

 

Mark didn’t get a chance to ask Jack again that night, no matter how much he wanted to. Jack had slammed into his throne room in a blaze of green light, barely touching the ground as he stormed toward the Sapphire interlopers trying to command his kingdom. The conquered Emeralds had immediately turned on their blue-garbed captors, flocking back to their rightful king. Mark and Thomas had fought beside each other as Jack battled gem-to-gem, the air in the throne room full of crackling blue flames and green lightning.

Emerald won, in the end. Sapphire had not been expecting much resistance from the leaderless Emeralds and had not sent much of an army to hold the palace. Nobody had been expecting Tigerseye to switch to defending Emerald instead of harrying them into further weakness. Nobody had been expecting the might of their army...and nobody had remembered that the Emerald Palace was literally _embedded_ with its green namesake, all providing power Jack could draw upon to hurl at the Sapphires.

The surviving Sapphires were locked away in true dungeon cells, not the guest room Mark had originally been imprisoned in. As soon as they were out of the way, the rebuilding began.

Whenever Mark snatched a moment with Jack, one or the other was drawn away. Mark barely could press a kiss to Jack’s temple, whispering _You were incredible!_ into his ear, before Jack needed to address his advisors. Jack came back hours later to seize Mark’s hips from behind, pressing against him from shoulders to knees, but then Ryan was knocking on the door: Thomas needed to speak with Mark. By the time they both managed to collapse into a bed together, it was all Mark could do to drape his arm over Jack’s side, much less even think about asking him for anything more.

“We need to leave today,” Thomas announced over breakfast the next morning.

“We only just got here,” Mark protested, looking over at Jack. “There’s still so much that needs to be done!”

“And the Emerald Division can handle their affairs on their own,” Thomas said, glancing at Jack and receiving a nod in response. “Winter is coming. We need to leave if we want to beat the snow.”

“The first snows of the year always hold the highest risk for avalanches,” Jack said. “I agree. The sooner you leave, the safer your return will be.”

“But-”

“I do have a reward for you, Prince Mark, for all you have done in the service of my kingdom.” Jack inclined his head toward Mark, being formal because of all of the extra dignitaries sharing their meal. “Please see me in my room when you have finished your meal.” He set down his fork and rose to his feet. Everyone around the table rose as well, remaining standing until Jack had left the room and Thomas resumed sitting.

Mark glanced over at Thomas, catching his eye. Thomas closed his eyes and nodded. Excusing himself, Mark slipped out after Jack, but the green-haired king was already gone.

Jack was in the king’s bedchamber. Mark caught him by the waist, dragging him into a deep kiss before the door even finished closing. Jack gasped but was soon molded against Mark’s chest, nipping at his lips and tugging on his hair. “Pleasant,” he panted as they struggled to break apart, their mouths drawn together again and again as if magnetized, “as this is, I'm not your reward.”

“Are you going to make me stop?” Mark asked, his hands wandering across Jack's bodysuit.

“ _Yes._ ” Jack caught Mark's hands before they could cup around the growing bulge between his legs, breathing heavily. “You...Wait here. I'll get your actual reward.”

When Jack returned, it was with two shiny green plates. Mark sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. He felt oddly cold by Jack's rejection of his affection, even though he knew if he started fondling Jack now, he'd never want to stop.

“I don't...I don't _have_ to return with Thomas,” Mark said quietly. “I'm going to be returning in the spring anyway, to be his ambassador to the Emerald Division. It would save a lot of time if I just never left to begin with.”

“We already talked about this, Mark.” Jack sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the plates. “You'd only be miserable during our winter, and your family, your mothers, your Chica, they all deserve to see you. And Thomas needs to make sure all your affairs are in order back home before you stay here for half the year. Besides, you miss being surrounded by flowers.”

“But I don't want to leave you,” Mark whispered.

“We're royalty,” Jack whispered back, squeezing his eyes shut. “What _we_ want doesn't matter in the face of what our kingdoms need.” He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes and held out one of the plates to Mark. “That's why I'm giving you this.”

“A plate?” Mark took the dish from Jack, realizing just how shiny it was when he held it up and saw a perfect reflection of himself, only green. “No, a mirror? What is this?”

“It's a mirror,” Jack said. “What did you think I'd give you?”

“Uh…” Mark glanced over at Jack and caught the smile trying to hide in the corner of his mouth. “Gee, thanks,” he said, fighting off his own smile. “What is it really?”

Jack touched a carving on the side of his mirror, then swirled his fingers around the surface. The emerald shimmered and rippled as if it were a surface of water. In his hands, Mark's did the same, forming an image of Jack. Jack's mirror showed Mark looking to the side. “Wait, what!?”

 _Wait, what!?_ Mark's voice echoed out of Jack's mirror.

“They're scrying plates,” Jack explained, with Mark's mirror repeating his words several seconds behind, slightly tinny. “They're an Emerald invention, and one of our most closely guarded secrets. We've set up an entire network of these plates across the kingdom. I can communicate with any corner of my land in an instant. It's not the same as being physically present, but it does allow for immediate response.”

“And you're giving me one?”

“As the first ambassador we are allowing into our lands, I feel it is important that I can reach out to you whenever I need,” Jack explained. “The same is true in reverse: you should be able to call upon me. The plates work both ways. You can leave your plate in Thomas’ care when you return here.”

 _I don't want to be apart,_ Mark heard behind Jack's actual words. Jack struggled to be openly affectionate, but Mark was learning how to tell what Jack actually meant behind his logic and politics. _I don't want to go months without seeing you, speaking to you._

“Thank you, Jack.” Mark reached over to cup Jack's face, drawing him close for a kiss. One of Jack's hands lifted to Mark's head, his fingers threading through Mark's hair. “This will make winter bearable.”

"And in the spring, you'll be back here,” Jack whispered, keeping his eyes closed as they broke the kiss. Mark pressed their foreheads together, letting their breath intermingle. “You'll be here, and there will be flowers.”

 

@>\---}----~END~----{---<@

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the story. Chapter 3 is just an epilogue, very short compared to these two monsters of chapters!


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we end with the epilogue, or as I've been calling it in my head: gratuitous fan service. Thank you so, so much to everyone who left a comment or kudo on this fic. Your love for it has made me smile every day. :D

“Uncle Mark! Uncle Mark!” Pearl came running down the path, as sure-footed as a mountain goat, a bright red flower crown perched atop her green-streaked hair. “Mummy said you were arriving today!”

“Pearly-whirl!” Mark leapt off his horse to catch the young princess, spinning her around. She giggled until she was out of breath, flinging her arms around Mark's shoulders and kissing his cheeks. “Oh, you've grown so _big_! Look at you!”

“Daddy said I should wear flowers today,” Pearl said, giving a spin once Mark set her down to show off her crown. “Do you like it?”

“I _love_ it. I'm so jealous! I love flowers!”

“I'll make you one too!” Pearl scampered up the path again. Mark laughed, following at a more leisurely pace, leading his horse with Chica at his heels.

The winter had been long and dull back in Tigerseye City. Mark had looked forward to his daily calls with the Emerald royalty. Jack never missed a night, and he often let the children or Val join in for the start of the call. After Val took the children to bed, the calls became far more personal.

Jack and Val had been married a fortnight after the Tigerseye army left the mountains, and Jack had legitimized Dylan and Pearl shortly thereafter, announcing Malcolm as their true father and adopting them as his heirs. Dylan was already taking after Jack, serious and devoted to the kingdom, while Pearl still loved to laugh and play, reveling in the beauty around her. She was TigersEye at heart...not that Mark would ever say that to Jack's face.

Speaking of Jack's face, Mark had almost forgotten the peculiar, half-perplexed, half-amused raised-eyebrow thing he did whenever he was trying to hold back laughter. He rarely struggled so hard to conceal his emotions when they were having private moments in the dark of the night, their bodies tinged green by the scrying plates as they struggled with not being able to touch. Jack wore that expression now, however, as Mark and Pearl returned to his court.

Mark grinned proudly beneath his pink flower crown, Pearl perched happily on his shoulders, her fingers knotted in Mark's dark hair. Jack watched their approach as solemnly as he could manage, while Dylan stood beside him and frowned at his sister. At Jack's other side, dressed in soft greens, his queen giggled into her hand.

“Come, my sweet, let's let Uncle Mark do his work.” Val lifted Pearl off Mark's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Welcome back, Prince Mark.”

“Thank you for having me, your Majesty.”

Jack rose to his feet and descended the dais. He looked so much better now. The smudges were all but gone from under his eyes, and his body was not nearly so gaunt. The crown did not look as heavy on his head.

“Mark.”

“Seán.”

The two men embraced, a formal meeting of brothers, a show for the court. Jack gestured for a chair to be brought out for Mark and returned to his throne, resuming the day's greetings.

After court, Jack hosted a feast in honor of Mark return to the mountains. Pearl climbed into Mark's lap and begged him to dance with her. Dylan loosened up at the less formal party, giving Mark a hug and taking Pearl off his hands when she started to yawn.

Jack mostly remained seated for the party, getting up only to dance with Val. They looked every inch a loving couple, but Mark knew they regarded each other as brother and sister, keeping to their separate bedchambers and leaving their marriage unconsummated. Mark sighed as he retired to his own room late in the night, thinking of other relationships yet unconsummated. Jack had seated Mark at his left hand, but he had not even so much as hinted at inviting Mark to join him in his bed. Was he waiting for Mark to make the first move? Or had he tired of their relationship already, being unable to touch for so many months?

The soft click of a servants’ door closing behind him made Mark turn. Jack stood by the wall, holding a lamp and wearing a long dressing gown. There was no crown on his fluffy green hair, no sparkle of emerald around his throat or in his ears. Mark’s breath caught at the sight, remembering his confession about his fear of the green gems so many months ago. Had Jack remembered too?

“No emeralds?” Mark asked, canting his chin toward Jack's bare head.

“I don't need them here.” Jack set the lamp on a table. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come back.”

“You promised me flowers,” Mark said.

Jack's eyes lifted to the flower crown Mark still wore, and he gave a tiny smile. “So I did.”

“Pearl's gotten so tall,” Mark marveled. “Has it really only been a few months? And Dylan is so attentive. You must be proud.”

“I am,” Jack said. “I love the children like they were my own.”

“And Val is beautiful.”

Jack frowned, but he nodded. “That she is. I can see why Mally loved her.”

“You must show me the mountains tomorrow. Just the trip here, I saw so many new kinds of flowers. I can't wait to see them from the heights.”

“Mark, I...yes. Of course I will.” Jack fiddled with the sash of his gown, watching Mark warily.

Mark's eyes fastened on the loose knot, and he wondered if Jack was wearing his bodysuit beneath the green silk. “Jack…” Would Jack let him see? Taste? Feel?

“ _Please_.”

Mark responded to the desperation in Jack's voice, crossing the room in two strides to pin Jack against the wall, sealing their mouths together. Jack groaned, his fingers raking down Mark’s back even as he arched up against Mark’s body.

“Little eager, are we?” Mark asked. “Did you miss me?” Not that he was one to talk. His hands were moving almost on their own accord, yanking Jack’s sash open and shoving his dressing gown off his shoulders. The green silk pooled around his feet, revealing Jack was wearing nothing more than a simple white nightshirt. It wasn’t black and bodyhugging in the least, and it was easily the sexiest thing Mark had ever seen Jack wear. “Oh gods…”

Jack whimpered, actually fucking _whimpered_ , as Mark fell to his knees in front of him, his hands pressing into the loose cotton, exploring the body his eyes were denied. Mark nuzzled between Jack’s legs, feeling the hard heat of his erection through just a thin layer of fabric. Jack wasn’t trying to stop him, wasn’t telling him it wasn’t the right time or place. Mark closed his mouth around the tip of Jack’s cock, sucking through his nightshirt. Jack’s head thumped against the wall with the full-body tremor he gave, his hands clamping down into Mark’s hair and pulling tight. Mark hissed at the delicious pricks of pain, eliciting a needy cry from Jack’s throat.

“Need something?” Mark asked, keeping his mouth far too close to Jack’s cock.

“Fucking _tease_ ,” Jack whined, trying to thrust forward.

“Tease?” Mark asked, catching Jack’s hips in his hands, holding him against the wall. “Aww, are you feeling neglected?” Jack nodded, but Mark only grinned up at him. “Talk to me, Jack. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _You_ are, you asshole!” Jack thunked his head against the wall again, groaning in frustration. “It’s been months, fucking _months_ , with nothing but your voice and your image to taunt me, nothing but my hand and my regrets, wishing I had...wondering if you’d even return, if you’d even care enough to come back, or if you’d come to your senses once you were back home, only humoring me from afar…”

“Jack,” Mark said quietly, looking up into Jack’s frantic blue eyes. “Jack, I _am_ home.”

Jack’s breath caught, that perfect pink mouth forming an _o_ of surprise, and then thin hands were on Mark’s shoulders, hauling him back to his feet for a kiss. Mark groaned as Jack tugged at his shirt, practically ripping it off his shoulders in his need to get to Mark’s skin, and he hooked his hands beneath Jack’s thighs, lifting him off the ground.

Jack locked his legs around Mark’s waist, using the wall for support, mapping out every inch of Mark’s chest. His mouth found a dark nipple and Mark groaned, rocking his hips up and knocking Jack against the wall. It was all too easy to ruck up Jack’s nightshirt in this position, shoving it up his thighs to expose more of his flesh for Mark to grab and squeeze, digging bruises into Jack’s ass.

“Need,” Jack gasped, licking stripes across Mark’s nipple, “need your cock, please Mark, please, _please_ …”

Mark couldn’t deny Jack anything, especially not when he begged so prettily. He gripped Jack tightly in one hand, balancing his weight while he yanked his leggings loose and shoved them down his legs. Jack sank against his cock with a sigh, letting Mark rut up between his cheeks as his head fell back.

That expanse of white throat was too much for Mark to resist, even without the maddening collar cutting across it. Mark dove in, sucking and biting, needing to taste Jack’s skin. Jack’s nails dug into his back, his thighs flexing as he rocked himself over Mark’s dripping cock, chanting Mark’s name.

“Oh gods, Jack, gods…” Mark had to bury his face against Jack’s shoulder for a moment, trying desperately to hold on to some control before he fucked Jack dry. “Jack, _please_ tell me you had the forethought to supply my room with everything we’d need…”

“By the bed,” Jack gasped. “By the bed, scented oils… for relaxation…”

Mark laughed into Jack’s neck, nipping one last time before he gathered the other man close and stepped away from the wall. Jack held his breath, shivering in Mark’s arms, letting himself be carried to the bed and dumped against the blankets. As Mark grabbed a glass bottle, uncorking it and letting the sharp scent of pine waft into the room, Jack scooted himself against the pillows, his nightshirt riding  up around his waist, legs spread in invitation.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Mark breathed, needing a moment to appreciate the scene. Jack’s pale skin was flushed, his fingers curling around his cock, squeezing and pumping slowly. Jack spread his legs wider, biting his lip before his free hand slid down to finger at his hole.

Mark drizzled the oil over Jack’s questing fingers, marveling as he easily slipped two inside. “Were you hoping for this?” he asked, slicking his own fingers and reaching down to feel the heat of Jack’s body himself. “Did you already stretch yourself for me, thinking of my cock, how I’d feel inside you, fucking you open?”

“Maybe…” Jack gasped, arching his back as Mark added two fingers of his own, stretching Jack wide. “Maybe I just thought of this, of you spreading me with your fingers, of you watch-” his breath hitched as Mark pressed up, seeking out the spot of greatest pleasure, “ _watching_ everything…”

“Do you just want my fingers tonight?” Mark asked, leaning down to swipe his tongue up Jack’s dick, catching the spurts of precum gathering at the tip. “My fingers and my mouth, driving you to completion, making you scream?”

“Nnngh…” Jack tossed his head, deliberately the second time. “Your cock, Mark, need your cock, been imagining it all day, dreaming of it all winter, fuck me, Mark, please, please _please_!”

Mark barely had the sense to grab the oil again, climbing between Jack’s legs and pressing tight to his ass. Jack was gasping, arching his back, rubbing his stretched hole against Mark’s cock as he slicked himself up.

When Mark finally pushed inside Jack for the first time, he kept his eyes open, watching Jack’s face grow slack and unguarded, all of his emotions exposed for Mark to see. There was no ice in his eyes now as Jack wrestled with his girth, relaxing against the slow pressure filling him. Mark held himself still when he could press no further, holding himself over Jack on arms already starting to tremble.

Jack opened those blue eyes to look up at Mark, so full of trust and warmth. “ _Perfect_ ,” he breathed, and Mark felt his heart clench in agreement.

They were messy and uncoordinated, laughing breathlessly together as they fumbled for a rhythm, unaccustomed to the reality of the other moving right there with them. It didn’t take long for Mark to settle into a deep, throbbing roll that had Jack sobbing with every thrust, clutching at Mark’s shoulders as their mouths glanced off each other. Their sweat shimmered in the dim light, making Jack looking like he was glowing beneath Mark’s body, an ethereal guardian of the mountains, claimed by Mark and Mark alone. He pulled at his cock, knowing the strokes Mark was eager to someday learn, his bright eyes focused on Mark until the moment he came, when he threw his head back, eyes shut tight.

Mark fucked Jack through his orgasm, feeling every shudder and clench with his own dick, gritting his teeth to hold himself back so he wouldn’t miss a single moment of Jack’s pleasure. When Jack opened those blue eyes again, fucked out and sated, Mark was lost. He buried himself as deep as he could into Jack’s body, his orgasm pulsing through him.

Jack tucked the blankets around them, nuzzling sleepily into the curve of Mark’s arm. Mark tugged him close, kissing his green hair, spiky from their exertions. Jack hummed softly, then laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“In the spring, you’ll come back,” Jack murmured, repeating the words he’d sent Mark off with all those months ago. He reached up, plucking a somewhat wilted flower crown from Mark’s hair and tucked it onto his own head. “You’ll come back,”

“And there will be flowers,” Mark finished, leaning in to kiss his king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it turns out I'm not as done with this story as I originally thought, but like all my stories, I'm not posting anything full until I finish writing. If you want to see snatches of what I'm working on, though (or just pictures of my cats), you can stalk my tumblr, which is also Fantismal.


	4. A Promise

Happy New Year from the kingdoms!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, art by the fabulous Icarus_descends.


	5. Learning to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Mark stumbled upon Prince Sean's room and started unlocking the cold-hearted king? Yeah. This is Jack's POV of that scene...

“Seán, if you’ll just-”

“Cara!” Jack stopped in the hall, closing his eyes and pressing his finger and thumb to his eyelids. The clerk nearly collided with his back. He could feel her foot scuff against his gauzy train. “Cara, I need to be alone right now.”

“But-”

“ _No_.” Jack twisted around to fix Cara with his best royal stare, frowning at the older woman. “I’m done. With the day. I’m _done_.”

“These reports are not going to read themselves-”

“If they’ve waited this long, they can wait another day.” Cara opened her mouth to protest again, and Jack drew himself up to his full height, hating that he was barely any taller. “Am I not your king? Why are you still questioning me?” Cara’s mouth snapped shut. There was a moment of angry defiance in her eyes, but then she nodded. After a brief hesitation, she dipped a curtsy.

“Of course, _your Majesty_.”

“Just _go_.” Jack waved his hand at her, waiting for the older woman to leave his sight before he let his shoulders sag, biting at the inside of his lips. _I don’t want to be your king any more than you want it._ He looked at the gauze draped around his arms. Green. _Green._ He should be wearing black gauze, but not as the king, never as the king. The king did not mourn a person, a family. The king only mourned his country. He had traded the black of mourning for the green of monarchy the moment his last sister died and the iron crown touched his head. He never thought he could hate green so much.

Twisting on his heel, Jack stalked off down the hall. He had meant to retire to his private bedchamber, but the weight of the day was too heavy on his shoulders and the room still felt too much like his father’s heavy eyes. His feet turned instead to a more familiar destination, a more personal set of rooms.

Once Jack moved from the apartment of the youngest prince to that of the king, the servants had covered any remaining furnishings in plain sheets, to better protect them from the ravages of time. Someday, these rooms would be used again by another fifth child of the royal family, and he or she would need seats and tables and shelves. As king, Seàn had no reason to return to these rooms. As Jack McLoughlin, he had no reason to stay away.

Even with their familiar shapes shrouded, Jack knew exactly where to go to find a lamp. He pulled the sheet off and lit it with a touch of his emerald ring, not bothering to call to a servant to start a fire. Between the shuttered windows, left uncovered, six sets of blue eyes stared down at him. Jack looked up at the portrait of his family, painted shortly after his birth. His eyes were closed. Everyone else watched him, frozen forever in a time he didn’t even remember. Malcolm and Liam in the back. Máire and Alison in the front. His parents in the middle, his father so proud, his mother so loving. They had been a strong family: four healthy children and a new baby boy! The royal line couldn’t help but flourish with those odds!

The treacherous tears Jack had been fighting all evening welled up, blurring his vision. He covered his face with his hands, swallowing his sobs. While he was alone in this room now, the servants flitted to and fro in the passages between the walls. If they heard unexpected noises in here, they might come to investigate.

Jack pressed his fingers beneath his eyes, trying to catch his tears before they could roll down his face. Emerald kings didn’t cry. Emerald kings didn’t show weakness. They were strong and powerful, beacons of hope and strength for all their people. Generations of Emerald unity were built on the straight backs and proud shoulders of the McLoughlin line. They felt no cold and bowed to no enemy.

It was an act, all an act, a show put on for the good of their people. Jack knew the secrets of the kings. He was aware of how the emeralds the McLoughlins wore quietly radiated heat into their flesh, allowing them to walk bare-shouldered, literally, even in the coldest of winters. He remembered many years of being scolded for his tears over a bump or bruise, choking back his own pain beneath his father’s frown.

What would Patrick say now, if he saw his son openly weeping? Jack turned away from the painting, pushing further into the apartment, into his old bedchamber. It was all as he remembered it, save for the shrouded furniture. Jack lit another lamp and yanked the sheet off his old bed. Still made. He collapsed against the red blankets, pressing his face into the thick cotton and letting the pillows muffle his sobs.

His father would have sat beside him and rubbed his back, his own expression solemn but not unfeeling. He would have murmured softly about how pain and weakness were entirely different, and feeling one did not mean you were the other. Grief made one human, and should not be cut out of your life. A king, however, needed to be more than human, and could not bawl like a child in the public eye. In private, however, even a king could mourn.

That was what he had said when the gods-forsaken plague first came to the Emerald Division, and the first reports of the sheer amount of death were reaching the royal family. Some of the dead had been friends of Jack’s, people he had grown up with, an old stablemaster who had taught him how to ride, a candlemaker’s son who would run with him through the streets of the royal city whenever his mother went to the marketplace, or tackle him into the hay when they had a moment alone. Jack was free to cry in here, in his bed, so long as he was pulled together and presentable when he was next seen.

It had been months, _months_ , since Máire, Queen of the Emerald Division, his oldest sister, had surrendered in her fight against the horrific disease, silently passing in the night. Jack had been lying in this very bed, shivering despite the heavy blankets wrapped around him, listening to the wails of the servants who found her and the courtiers still able to stand on their own feet. _The Queen is dead! Long live the King!_ He had coughed into an already-stained rag and stared at the door, wondering idly what they would shout when he succumbed.

It has been months since Máire died, and longer still since Jack had lost the rest of his family, and yet the pain was still as sharp and present as ever, hiding just beneath the surface of his heart, ready to jab him if he pressed it in the wrong manner. Today it had been a casual comment by one of his courtiers, the wording of which he couldn’t even remember, but he had felt the sudden sharp bloom of pain in memory of a joke he had shared with Liam, and it was all Jack could do not to sob from his throne. He was growing better at hiding his grief, locking away all his emotions, keeping his face cool and frozen even as his heart roiled and eyes burned with unshed tears. A king did not cry in front of his people. He did not let them know his heart was broken, a shattered shell below an empty void.

Jack drew away from his pillows with a shaky breath, reaching up to dab at his eyes with his gloved fingers. He had cried so many times since the plague began, shed so many tears. Surely one day, he would have no more to give.

Even though his tears had stopped, Jack didn’t get off the bed. He sat on the edge, hands folded in his lap, staring blankly at the damp depression in the pillow. In here, he didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t have to straighten his head beneath the weight of his crown, didn’t have to be emotionless. There was no one around to…

There was someone around. Someone in the other room. Jack’s head whipped around, listening to the heavy footsteps. Someone was trying to be quiet, but failing miserably. Scowling, Jack wiped at his face one last time, double-checking that his crown was in place, before he got to his feet and stalked toward the door. Who _dared_ to intrude upon his private rooms?

The last person Jack wanted to see was standing in the other room, holding his lamp and looking up at the painting. Prince Mark Edward of the TigersEye Empire, the prisoner Jack hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. “What are you doing here?”

At least he had the small satisfaction of seeing Mark jump, the light from his lamp jerking across the walls as he turned quickly to face Jack. Jack folded his arms, scowling as kingly as he could manage. “You’re not supposed to be out of your room.”

“I was bored.” The prince recovered quickly, already starting to smirk. That seemed to be his default setting, smug and cocky. Jack had never met the prince before he was dumped at his feet, only hearing reports of the TigersEye royalty and looking at sketches drawn of the enemy princes. This one had been drawn with that smirk before, but the spy had never managed to quite get the right quirk to his lips, the glitter in his eyes that said he was aware of a joke nobody else knew yet. “I told you I’d only be okay for a day or two.”

“You managed seven. I was hoping you found some inner peace.” Jack had meant to find a better solution for the restless prince, but fresh problems were always cropping up, new fires only the king could handle smoldering at his feet. He hadn’t intentionally avoided letting the prince run loose in his palace, but it seemed like the TigersEye brat had plans of his own.

“Inner peace? _Me_? Fuck that.” The prince’s grin was downright cheeky, and Jack bristled as he turned his back on him, looking back up at the painting. Jack wanted to scream, to leap at the darker man and claw his eyes out for daring to look upon his family. He didn’t. An Emerald king showed no weakness. He clenched his hands into fists over his biceps and ground his teeth together. “I’m never at peace,” the prince continued, as if Jack wasn’t standing on the other side of the room and contemplating his murder. “Not when there are so many secrets to explore.”

“This is not one you are meant to find.”

“Is this your family?”

If Jack hadn’t been gritting his teeth, he would have gaped at the prince’s apparent obliviousness to the danger he was in. Pissing off a king, no matter how inexperienced the king was, was never a good idea. If anything, upsetting a new king was even more dangerous than upsetting one who had learned the secret of restraint through years of reign.

“You all look so alike. Are you the boy on the left or on the right?”

“Prince Mark, this is not your place.” Why couldn’t the damn prince take a hint? Jack didn’t want him in this room, intruding in his space, his privacy, his pain.

“Oh, come on, you can’t even tell me _that_? I knew you had siblings, just didn’t know how many!”

He _couldn’t_ be that oblivious. He was being purposefully difficult. Jack ground his teeth further, but then he closed his eyes, not having the energy to fight him. “Neither.” Maybe if he just answered the prince’s questions, he would be left in peace.

Of course, it couldn’t possibly be that easy. The TigersEye prince was watching him with a little frown that still seemed entirely false, too smug and self-aware to be genuine confusion. “Are you not in this painting? Were you the painter!?”

“No.” Jack squeezed his fists until his nails dug into his palms, then gestured toward the middle of the painting where his mother sat, holding him in her arms. “I’m there.”

“…the queen?”

“The _baby_.” Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Maybe he was over-estimating the prince’s intelligence. Maybe he really was genuinely unaware of how Jack was glaring murder at his ear.

The prince certainly looked like a dumb idiot with his mouth hanging open, studying the painting with fresh eyes. “Wait…you’re the _baby_? Do you have some bass-ackward inheritance laws here or something?”

Jack flinched, the prince’s thoughtless words slamming into his chest over that knife of grief, driving fresh pain through his heart. He hugged his arms over his chest, feeling his spine curve, hating the weakness he couldn’t fight. “They are the same laws you have in your countries. Perhaps a bit more liberal, if anything. Women can inherit the throne as well, in birth order.” Jack wasn’t entirely sure if TigersEye had embraced inheritance rights for women yet. There were no princesses to take the throne, though the Ruby kingdom had recently united with the Empire, and they were an entirely matriarchal society. Perhaps some of their ways had rubbed off.

“And these are all your siblings?”

Jack didn’t answer, _couldn’t_ answer around the lump in his throat. _Emerald kings didn’t cry._ The prince eyed him sideways, that damnable mischief rising in his dark eyes.

“Did you kill them?”

“What sort of monster do you think I am?” Jack reacted instinctively, lashing out at the prince, feeling his emeralds flare at his anger. _That_ got the appropriate response, at least, as the prince immediately held up his hands, glancing at Jack’s crown.

Perhaps it was as much Jack being oblivious to the prince’s needs as the prince was of Jack’s. He had told Jack before, after all, that he craved companionship and freedom to move. Maybe he hadn’t asked the question to upset Jack, but out of genuine curiosity, since Jack was being so cold about the truth.

Did it really matter, in the end? The prince was trapped in the Emerald Division for the rest of his life. Everyone else here knew the story. Did it matter that their one intruder wanted to know?

Jack’s posture sagged further, his chin nearly touching his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut, choking back his grief. “There was a plague. Rich or poor, noble or common, it didn’t differentiate. We all got sick. They didn’t survive.”

“And you did?” There was a touch of something softer in the prince’s voice, something dangerously close to pity. Jack resisted a growl, but could not bite back his sarcasm.

“No, I died too.” He glared at the prince, or tried to, at least, as the TigersEye studied him, obviously searching for weakness. Those dark eyes glanced off his own, and then the prince turned away, looking back to the portrait and giving Jack a chance to compose himself.

“How long ago was this?” Jack closed his eyes, breathing deeply, quietly, through his nose. The prince didn’t seem to notice. “The servants you sent me sometimes still call you Prince or Highness. They aren’t accustomed to calling you King yet, so it couldn’t have been that long ago…”

“Two months.” Jack could barely get the words out. Two months since Máire died. Two months since Wade had snuck into his room, touching an emerald to his skin and helping clear Jack’s mind for the first time in weeks. Two months since Jack had dragged himself out of bed because the kingdom needed a ruler, and there was no one left but Jack.

The prince’s dark eyes were back, full of softness and pity, and he was reaching one hand out…oh _fuck_ that! “Don’t even think about it,” Jack growled at him.

The gesture was easily turned into one of innocence as the prince tucked his hands behind his head and grinned at Jack. “I don’t know what you mean.”

_Like hell you don’t._ Jack glared at the prince before giving up on ever chasing him away. He stalked back toward the bedroom, seeking out the comfort of his own bed.

The prince followed him like a lost little puppy, complete with troublesome dark eyes that smiled so innocently. “How old are you, anyway?” At least he didn’t intrude into the bedroom himself, recognizing that this was not his space.

Jack tucked his legs beneath him, pressing his hands in the space between his knees and cocking his head to the side to study the prince. “How old do you think I am?”

“Uh…I pegged you at about ten years older than me when we first met.” The prince gave a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But now I’m not so sure…”

“Ten years _older_!?” Jack knew how old the TigersEye prince was: twenty-seven. If he thought Jack was a full decade older…he knew the disease had caused him to waste away, losing more weight than he could afford to, drying out his skin and adding gray to the hair that wasn’t dyed emerald, but _really_! “Try a year younger! I’m twenty-six!”

The prince’s dark eyes lacked any malice, only showing surprise at that news. “Oh. _Really?_ You’re younger than me? But you’re…”

“I’m _what_?” Jack already knew how the prince would finish that sentence, but he forced the words out anyway.

“…a king?”

“I’m king because my family is dead,” Jack spat, covering a fresh bloom of grief with anger. “That’s what happens, regardless of age. You of all royalty should know that.”

Perhaps it was a low blow. Jack knew the King of TigersEye City, the prince’s father, had passed away when both princes were young. It had been a long and protracted illness that even their fabled healers couldn’t cure. Several cousins of the royal line, with gemstone affinities, had taken to studying the healing arts after the king’s passing, to ensure it wouldn’t happen again, but they had been too late to save the man himself. If Jack had learned anything from the past few months, it was that time did not actually heal the loss of your father. It only added more layers over the blade of grief, making it just that much harder to cut open fresh pain.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the prince finally said, after standing silently in the doorway with his mouth shut for once. There was a trace of genuine sympathy in his voice this time, understanding, an offering of peace, or at least a truce. “That’s some…that’s some jack shit luck you’ve got.”

Jack had to squeeze his eyes shut, clutching at the blankets beneath his hands. “Jack,” he whispered, hearing the nickname ringing in his memories, in the voices of his siblings, his parents, his lover. “That’s what they used to call me. Nobody calls me Jack anymore. Jack is not a kingly name.”

“Why Jack?” the prince asked, matching Jack’s volume.

“I…haven’t the faintest idea,” Jack realized slowly, looking up at the prince. His voice was cracking, but Jack barely noticed. He had never thought about it before, never considered what an odd nickname Jack was for Seán. “My mother always insisted it was a nickname. I never thought to ask…” And now he never could. She was dead and gone, as was his father, his brothers, his sisters, so many dead. Would anyone left alive know the answer? Would he ever learn what had possessed his mother to call him such an odd name, frequently enough that his entire family took it up?

“…I could call you Jack?” The TigersEye prince sounded lost, standing helplessly in the doorway. Jack turned a sharp glare onto him at the thought of _anyone_ using his family’s private name for him, but the prince didn’t seem phased by it. If anything, he was encouraged, entering Jack’s room and climbing onto his bed. “No, really. I could call you Jack. And…I could help?”

“ _Help?_ ” If the prince had been oblivious before, surely he couldn’t be anymore. Jack sneered the word, trying desperately to tell him without words to _get away_ , give him space. “You can’t even help by staying put in your room. What could you possibly do to help?”

“I’m an heir.” Scorn slid off the prince’s back like water off a duck. He shrugged in the face of Jack’s distemper and continued to smile. “I got all kinds of lessons and stuff on what to do should something happen to Tom, god forbid. Did you get any lessons like that?”

“I have advisors.” Jack could feel his emeralds stirring and remembered that he should not attempt to kill the prince with his mind. It might actually work, if his stones thought he meant the desire.

“Yeah, but I have sass.”

“Sass?”

“I make you laugh.” Prince Mark poked Jack in the arm, making his frown grow deeper.

“You have not made me laugh _once_.” Except that time a week ago, when the prince had been pressed against his back with a sword starting to cut Jack’s skin, and they had both been grinning from the high of a good sword fight. It wasn’t _really_ funny, what the other man had said then. It didn’t count.

“I _could_ make you laugh. And that’s important. A good king needs to laugh.”

“You could not make me laugh.” Jack doubted he would ever laugh again, a truly genuine laugh, one born of happiness or joy or amusement. The world had gone gray when the first fever broke out in the palace, and the color still seemed lacking from the world. Jack had buried his entire family and half the staff, and he knew the rest of his kingdom had suffered just as dearly.

“Wanna bet?”

Jack looked at Prince Mark, at those dancing brown eyes, that self-assured grin. This was a man who would not stay in a room, who snuck around in clomping shoes and dared to attack a king in his own palace, in front of his own guards. This was a younger brother full of mischief and spunk. Jack knew what he would have done if he had been in the prince’s place, speaking to his brother Mally.

He would have tackled him, tickling into those spots that made Mally squeal like a pig, undignified and unrefined. The prince’s expression told him he was not above such behavior. An Emerald king showed no weakness. “…no.”

The prince grinned as if he could read Jack’s mind. “I make you laugh,” he declared. “Even if it’s only inside your head. You haven’t called for your guards, after all. You _like_ me being here.”

“You over exaggerate your qualities,” Jack grumbled, trying to deny Prince Mark’s words at least inside his own head. He didn’t like the prince being here, sitting in his room, even if it was the easiest conversation he’d had in weeks. The prince wasn’t deferring to him, wasn’t avoiding certain topics, wasn’t repeating meaningless comforts. He was just…talking. Talking and distracting and Jack didn’t feel like crying anymore. He pulled away from those thoughts, trying to pull his authority around him. “I haven’t called for my guards because you’re still stupid enough to wrap your head in tigerseyes with no defense. You can’t possibly hurt me.”

“I can’t help it if I’m proud of my birthright,” Prince Mark said with one of his cheeky grins that was growing harder and harder not to return.

“And yet you do not value pride.” Jack sucked on the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling back, forcing himself to remember that this man represented a kingdom that stripped pride away from its conquered neighbors, forcing them to bend their knees to an outside king.

“I value life more.” Prince Mark’s cheek slid off his face as he looked away from Jack, back toward the other room. He didn’t look so untouchable when he wasn’t smiling. His eyes were darker when he was serious, and Jack could see the other man’s sadness shimmering through the curve of his mouth, the dip of his brows. “Your Majesty…Jack. Be honest with me: will I ever be allowed to go home?”

The prince’s voice was soft, and he sounded almost lost. Jack dropped his gaze to his feet for a moment, then looked back at the prince, waiting. Sure enough, Prince Mark eventually looked back at him. Jack shook his head slowly. There was no change in the prince’s expression. He had been expecting that answer.

“You already know the answer to that. I _am_ sorry. You were not supposed to have been brought here.”

“So why don’t you just kill me?” Prince Mark murmured. “Aren’t I more trouble than I’m worth?”

Jack sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? Between harassing his guards, escaping his room, and whining about the cold, Prince Mark was an entirely unwelcome guest. He still didn’t deserve to be lied to. It wasn’t the prince’s fault that he had been dumped in the Emerald Division, and he couldn’t really be blamed for attempting to escape and return home. The same would have been expected of Jack if the situations had been reversed. “Right now, you’re still useful as a bargaining chip, despite your trouble.”

“But not one that will ever be released.”

“Your brother doesn’t know that.” Jack met the prince’s eyes, feeling his own stab of sympathy. “I’m sorry. This is how politics are played.” He couldn’t say _“We’re scared of TigersEye’s attention turning to us.”_ He couldn’t admit _“We’d lose if we were attacked right now.”_ He couldn’t confess _“Your life will be forfeit if your brother marches on us.”_

“I know.” Jack didn’t need to explain. The prince obviously understood, staring down at his hands on his legs. He was taking deep breaths, keeping himself calm. “I just…I hate this. I hate your kingdom. I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s very nice when the sun comes out, but it’s cold and wet and dead and there’s nothing to _do_. I’ve read every book you’ve given me, and I’m so sick of chess. I miss my family and my dog and my home and flowers, and I have nothing to distract myself _from_ missing them. If I’m going to be here forever…If I’m never going to leave, could it really hurt to let me loose on more of the palace, at least?”

Jack was not dead inside. His heart had been shattered and stomped on, but it wasn’t withered away completely. He could feel sympathy for the kidnapped prince’s plight, even though he was the one inflicting it upon Prince Mark. Still…“Considering that the first time you were let loose on the palace, you cut me, and the second time you were let loose, you found your way to my private rooms, yes, I think it might actually hurt.”

“Does it help if I’m sorry I cut you?” Prince Mark dipped his head, grinning lopsidedly at Jack. “Is it healing? I could take a look at it…”

“Our healers may not be from TigersEye, but that doesn’t make them any less capable, thank you all the same.” Jack had to try hard not to smile at the prince’s expression, or else he would start crowing about how he was amusing Jack. Besides…the pain had almost been welcome, an actual physical feeling, instead of all of the emotional hurt that boiled within his chest. Not that he would tell anyone that, not his healers, not this prince. “You are very adept with a sword. The wound is not severe.” It didn’t even hurt anymore, unless Jack stretched a certain way.

Sometimes he did, just to make it sting.

The prince looked momentarily like he was about to swallow his tongue, eventually choking out: “I’m glad to hear it.” That hadn’t been his first choice of words. Jack wondered what they would have been. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. There was amusement rising in the prince’s dark eyes again. He bounced back so quickly from his grief. Jack envied him. Would he ever heal that much? Would he ever have the time to?

Tearing his gaze away from those dancing eyes, Jack raked his fingers through his hair, immediately wincing when they ran into the hard iron of his crown. As prince, Jack had always worn a simple diadem across his forehead, much like the band Prince Mark sported. His hair didn’t get tangled in the spikes when he did this before. It was always a hard reminder that he was not the youngest child anymore, but King of the Emerald Division.

The prince reached over, untangling Jack’s hair and clearly biting back a grin as Jack glared at him. This close, he smelled like soap, and Jack could see that his hair was still somewhat damp. He must have had the bath Jack had offered him, the one comfort he had remembered to request before Cara had distracted him. Of course. Of _course_ it had been the bath that had given the prince a chance to slip out from his servants’ watchful eyes. It took two of them to deal with the waste water. “You are difficult to contain, Prince Mark.”

“Please, just Mark,” the prince said, some of his smile fading. “I actually really hate being called a prince, unless I’m _trying_ to act like a dick. I just hate feeling like I’m somehow entitled to being considered ‘better’ than others, just because of my family.”

It was the most un-royal, un-affinitied thing Jack had ever heard come from the mouth of a royal. He couldn’t help but stare at the prince. “You _are_ better than others, because of your family.” Even without the _royalty_ aspect of their lives, both the McLoughlins and the Fischbachs were direct descendants of the first gem-bearers, capable of drawing upon their affinities to their gemstones to do miraculous, marvelous things.

“You know what I mean,” the prince… _Mark_ said as if anyone could wake the stones. “Yeah, the royals make the tough decisions, but we still eat and sleep and shit like the common people. We’re not _better_.”

That was almost an insult to their heritage. Jack narrowed his eyes, lifting a hand to touch the stone hanging between Mark’s eyes. “Only those of royal blood can call the gems to life,” he said. “Do they teach you _nothing_ in TigersEye? You _are_ special, because of your family. Even if you do have one of the shittiest gems on the hierarchy, it’s still better than having no gem at all.” Jack couldn’t imagine not having his emeralds to call upon. When his family died, the stone Wade brought him sang to him, wrapped its warmth around him, held him through his first paralyzing waves of grief. If he had been forced to bear that without its help…

“…do you not shit?” Mark’s question interrupted Jack’s private horror, his face blank and solemn. “Even with gem affinities, we’re not _better_. Different, yeah, I’ll give you that, but not _better_.”

…did Mark seriously just ask that of Jack? Jack stared at him, searching for any sign of teasing, but Mark’s eyes were serious and calm and _no_ , no, he couldn’t _really_ be wondering if Jack were so inhuman…was he…he wasn’t waiting for an _answer_ , was he?

It took Jack a second to recognize the fluttering in his gut, in his chest, the reason why his lips were starting to twitch. He turned away from Mark in horror, desperately trying to choke down the unfamiliar laughter bubbling within him, only to have the other man lean in over his shoulder and whisper right in his ear: “ _Made you laugh_.”

Jack managed to drive his elbow back, as if Mark was one of his brothers, but the prince fell back laughing and Jack couldn’t stop his own giggles from escaping, clapping his hands over his mouth to muffle them as best he could. “Okay,” he gasped, once he managed to rein in his laughter. “ _Okay_. You have sass.”

“And I can make you laugh.” Mark lifted one hand to lazily point at Jack, not bothering to get up from his sprawl across the red blankets. He looked good like that, Jack noted. The red brought out the highlights in his dark hair. “You _need_ me.”

“My sisters used to make me laugh.” It didn’t hurt so much to say. Jack tentatively touched his chest, remembering Alison’s breathless giggles, Máire’s nearly silent chuckles, Liam’s broad guffaws, and the way Mally would snort if riled up enough. It still ached, but it wasn’t _sharp_. “And my brothers.”

“You need me,” Mark repeated. He sat up, his face softer now, some of his smile still lingering in the corners of his mouth. He curled his hand around Jack’s forearm, holding him loosely, just a simple contact that reminded Jack of how long it had been since anyone had touched him for any reason other than helping him get dressed. “Don’t keep me caged, Jack. Just let me help. However I can. However you need. Please. I just want to _do_ something.”

Jack looked down at the fingers around his wrist, at the sharp contrast against his black glove, at how thoroughly they wrapped around his forearm and yet how soft the touch was. “This doesn’t mean I like you,” he said, trying to work through possible scenarios. “It certainly doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I understand.”

Mark was still going to try to get home. Jack could see it in the color of his skin. Mark did not belong in the mountains, especially not in winter. He was not happy in the Emerald Division, and he wouldn’t stay. He already knew so much, though, knew too much to be allowed out. If he went back to his brother, the kingdom would be lost. Jack had no doubts that King Thomas would not hesitate to pounce on the weakness of the mountains.

But what could he do? What could he _possibly_ do to cage Mark without trapping him? Mark needed to be free to move, but Jack needed to keep him from running away. He had managed it once, by overpowering Mark’s tigerseyes, but that tactic would never work twice. As long as Mark wore…

Mark didn’t _have_ to wear his tigerseyes.

“I want you to wear emeralds.” Jack looked up sharply at Mark, watching horror bloom in those dark eyes. “If you want to be out of your cage, then you _must_ wear a leash. Emeralds. Not tigerseyes.”

“Wait, but…”

“And _I_ will hold onto your gems.” Jack didn’t trust Mark to slip away in the night even dressed in emeralds, but if his gemstones were being held hostage, surely he’d think twice before trying to escape. While it was possible to survive in the mountains in this weather without having an affinity, the stones would make survival so much easier. They would keep Mark warm in the absence of a cloak, and help him create fires or light his way at night. He’d be able to purify water and fend off attacks with his stones. If Jack had them, Mark was more likely to stay.

“You can’t just…”

“You’re asking me to trust you with my kingdom,” Jack explained. “With our _secrets_. Even if you do nothing more than organize books in the library, you are asking me for far more than we have ever given _anyone_. And you have already proved you are difficult to contain. You miss your family. You want to go home. I cannot give you more information and simultaneously give you opportunities.” He held Mark’s gaze with his own, grateful that Mark’s cockiness had evaporated, replaced with a quiet fear. _Good._ For all their conversation, Mark was still Jack’s prisoner. He needed to remember his place, needed to remember that _Jack_ was calling the shots. A little fear wasn’t a bad thing.

“But…” Mark was practically hugging the tigerseyes around his arms, leaning back, leaning away from Jack.

“If you want me to trust you with my kingdom,” Jack said, carefully enunciating every word so there would be no confusion between their different accents, “you _will_ surrender yours.”

To his credit, Mark didn’t say no. He didn’t outright refuse the rare offer Jack was giving him. “What will you do with them?” He was clearly terrified, his voice sliding up a level.

“I’ll keep them safe,” Jack said, opting for honesty. This was an offer he himself would never even consider. Give up his emeralds? He would sooner die first.

He would die without them. “I’ll store them with my other personal treasures. And if, at some future point, I decide that you are actually trustworthy…I may give them back.”

“May?”

Jack could almost see the worst-case scenarios playing out behind Mark’s brown eyes. May was not a guarantee. Did Mark think Jack would destroy his gems? Jack was not heartless, no matter what his offer sounded like. “I won’t harm them, Mark, no matter how much you vex me,” he reassured the prince. “I will not sell them, gift them, or trade them away. They will remain yours, but in my care. And you will wear my emeralds.”

“So you can control me.” Mark was no idiot. He understood the situation, and he wasn’t going to let Jack hide it behind pretty words.

“So I can control you,” Jack confirmed, but then he added, “If necessary. I hope it will not be.” He didn’t actually like controlling other people. He had been taught how, when he was very young, but he hated seeing other people jerk around as if they were his giant dolls. They were _people,_ flesh and blood, with feelings and thoughts all of their own. They didn’t deserve to have their control stripped away just because Jack had an affinity they did not share.

“Can I keep one?” Mark asked.

He was actually considering it, Jack realized, genuinely fighting his own fear to contemplate Jack’s offer, so great was his desire for freedom of movement. Was being caged in a single room truly that horrible for him? Jack would rather spend his life in a cell than willingly part with his emeralds.

But Mark’s request…Jack could leave him one of his tigerseyes. The prince was far from home, in an enemy land. As he said, he missed everything he had been torn from. To completely rip away this last vestige of his homeland would be far too cruel, and Jack did not like the thought of being cruel. He looked Mark over, taking in the sizes and locations of all his gemstones. The forehead stones had to go. That was the usual location for the most powerful stones, close to your mind. Jack couldn’t trust Mark to not escape if he had those. The earrings and finger rings were small stones. They would be all but useless in an escape attempt, but they would be equally useless at offering comfort. The stones Mark wore around his arms or neck would be the best choices, large enough to sing to him, but weak enough to need support for an escape. Perhaps both armbands would be too many, though, and if Mark’s tigerseyes were anything like Jack’s emeralds, his left and right bands held bonded stones. Leaving him with only half of the set would be even more misery-inducing than taking both together. Decision made, Jack leaned in and pressed his finger to the stone around Mark’s neck. “You may keep this one.”

Jack felt Mark’s exhale against his arm, impressed at Mark’s self-control as the prince spoke again, his voice slowly returning to its usual tenor. “I want to see where you keep them. How. I want to see that they’re safe.”

“Of course.” Jack nodded, having not expected anything less. He knew exactly how he was going to store Mark’s tigerseyes already, remembering an emerald-lined box he had been gifted when he turned eighteen. “You will need to command the emeralds to access my safe. You won’t be able to steal them away even if you know where they are.” His siblings could have stolen them from him, but no one else alive would be able to pierce through the emeralds.

Mark frowned, the same thought obviously rising in his mind. He really _wasn’t_ an idiot. Jack made a mental note to never forget that. “What if something happens to you? What if you die, and they’re locked away forever?”

“That _would_ be unfortunate.” Jack climbed off the bed, stretching his arms over his head and twisting slightly, making the cut Mark had given him twinge. He smiled thinly in satisfaction, feeling better than he had in weeks. “You’ll just have to make sure I don’t.”

“You _would_ be the only king to have a bodyguard from an enemy state,” Mark grumbled, eying Jack with a dark look in his eyes.

Jack smirked over his shoulder at the leashed prince. “Unconventional is the Emerald way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaaat? ACTUAL new content for _There Will Be Flowers_? What could this mean!?
> 
> Wait... no... surely not...
> 
> THE BOOK!
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, so here's the deal. The Archive is strictly non-commerce, and I want to respect that, so I won't post a link here. However, the official physical copy of _There Will Be Flowers_ is complete and ready for acquiring. If you are interested, you can head over to my Tumblr and check a variety of tags, including #There Will Be Flowers, #kingdomsau, or #The Book Patch to find the link. If you don't want to go through Tumblr, you can go directly to www.thebookpatch.com/BookStore.aspx and search for either the author Fantismal or the title There Will Be Flowers. Tumblr has a more detailed FAQ, and you're welcome to ask me any questions you have, but basically, I don't want to create a paywall. If you don't want to/can't pay for a physical copy of the book, all of the bonus chapters WILL be posted here, in the order they appear in the book, one a week. Buying the book simply gives you early access (and a physical copy and some of Icarus' gorgeous artwork!).


	6. Unleashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wonder what was going through Jack's mind the first night the Sapphires tried to assassinate him?

His eyes were green. His eyes were green, not the blue they’d been all his life, reflected back at him from every mirrored wall. Green, green, green. Did people not see? Did they not realize?

Jack tore his gaze away from his distorted reflection to smile at the lord in front of him, dipping his head in response to his bow. And of course, his two daughters... gods, was the younger even eighteen? He met her eye and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look. If he felt like a piece of meat on display whenever potential brides were paraded in front of him, how much worse did they have to feel?

“Your Majesty.” A voluptuous lady with a head full of blonde curls and a chest lacking very much of a dress swept a deep curtsy in front of him, giving him a perfectly executed view down her cleavage. Jack kept his cringe from showing on his face. For every unwilling candidate, there was one like this woman.

“Lady Maeran. Always a pleasure.”

“Oh, Seán, it has been far too long!” Maeran stepped improperly close, pressing a rosy kiss to Jack’s cheek, her gloved hands squeezing his arms. “And to think, I’m calling you _Majesty_ now! We never dreamed this would happen!” She giggled, beaming up at him, not stepping back.

“Indeed,” Jack said, wishing he could detangle himself from the lady without seeming rude. “The past year has changed so much for all of the kingdom. I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

Maeran’s face sobered minutely, the familiar sadness of anyone whose family had been touched by plague slipping into her blue eyes. “And yours, Seán, and all your family. I hear there were only a few days between our mothers’ passings.”

“As if they’d have it any other way.”

Maeran was unusual for prospective brides in that she actually had a history with Jack. Their mothers had been childhood best friends, growing up here in Glengorm together. After Jack’s mother married King Patrick, Maeran’s mother married Denis O’Briain, Lord of Glengorm. Jack’s mother frequently took summers here and brought her children along, and Jack had grown up playing with Maeran in the sparkling blue waters of the bay. Maeran had stolen his first kiss when he was ten and informed him that they’d someday be married when he was thirteen. Much to Jack’s chagrin, his mother had laughed off his affront.

_Girls will be girls, my love. But never you fear, Jackaboy. You will choose your own partner, someone you love with all your heart. Such is the luck of the fifth._

Malcolm needed to marry for children. Máire and Liam would have married for politics. Alison and Jack, as the youngest, could have married for love, unless their hands were direly needed for a political match. Emerald had been strong and united beneath his father’s rule. The chances of Jack needing to make peace between the mountains by marrying properly were nonexistent.

And then the plague came, the horrible wasting disease that stripped health from the strong, leaving them gasping for breath and convulsing in their beds. Jack could still feel it settled in his lungs, a deep ache that sapped his strength, a poison that slowly killed his emeralds.

He forced a smile on his face and offered his hand to Maeran, unsure of what she had actually been saying to him, but interrupting her with the offer of a dance. Maeran’s eyes lit up as she took his hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

Ten years ago, when they had danced together, it was to great merriment as the two each struggled to lead, stepping on each other’s toes and hissing insults beneath the music. The queen and Lady O’Briain had hid their smiles behind their fans, and Jack had fled the party as early as he could politely manage, secreting himself in the stables with Daniel, letting his dear friend steal far more than first kisses in the hay.

Tonight, at least, Maeran behaved and let Jack lead, as was proper. He swept her around the floor, one hand on her shapely waist, his eyes never straying from her face. He didn’t want to look at her ample breasts, nor did he want to catch a glimpse of his emerald-stained eyes in the mirrors.

He was dying. That was the plain and simple truth. When Jack’s emeralds failed- -and they would fail, Jack was not so naive as to think he could outrun the plague forever--when they failed, Jack would be hit with the full force of months, possibly even years of delayed illness. He was not truly saving himself by drawing upon his emeralds. All he was doing was buying himself enough time to father a child, so the emerald affinity would not be made extinct like the diamonds had been.

He would not father a child with _Maeran_. Even as desperate as he was, he still had some standards. The mother of his child would be Queen of the Emerald Division, after all, and she would rule in her child’s stead until their sixteenth birthday, when they were deemed old enough to take the crown for themselves. Maeran...the entire O’Briain family was far too desperate to marry royal. They wanted the throne in their line. It was precisely why Lord O’Briain had chosen the queen’s best friend to be his second wife, why he was hosting this magnificent party and throwing his daughter at the royal she’d been failing to woo her entire life.

_Desperation isn’t attractive,_ Jack thought to himself, though he smiled at Maeran as if he were enjoying the night. Truthfully, the gentle touch and soft curves of a woman were far from attractive to Jack. He much preferred-

_Strong fingers curled around his wrists, dark eyes nearly black, looking up at him with a hint of a smirk, of smugness, of being fully aware of how insufferable he was and loving the way he made Jack’s breath stutter, licking his lips to make Jack look at his mouth and wish and **wish** …_

Jack bit his inner cheek, trying to push thoughts of Mark out of his head. Mark, his impossible prisoner, the prince from TigersEye who was even now sitting in his room, wearing his emeralds.

_Wearing his emeralds._ For all that he was TigersEye, Mark was strong and proud. He’d managed to best Jack in a sword fight, only losing because Jack had caught him off-guard and turned his gems against him before he could mount a proper defense. Jack knew Mark wouldn’t have let him seize control of the tigerseyes a second time. The man was too sharp, too much of a warrior. He hadn’t been expecting the attack because TigersEye seldom encountered enemy gem-wielders. Jack, on the other hand, had been taught to fight with his emeralds from the moment he could understand the rivalry between Sapphire and Emerald, the strongest remaining gems.

No, Mark wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice, and so Jack had to wrap him in emeralds. Mark had been scared, and rightfully so. How easy would it be for Jack to own him now?

He had wanted to. When Mark refused to behave, insisted on wanting to join him at the party, Jack had wanted to seize the emeralds in his hand, to pin Mark to the chair and teach him a thing or two about what happened to insolent princes. Preferably with his mouth.

Because Mark was beautiful. Mark was beautiful and warm, forcing smiles onto Jack’s face when he thought all his laughter had been frozen by the plague, soft and gentle in the evenings, getting Jack into bed when he felt ready to die from exhaustion, and absolutely, utterly, bewitchingly beautiful, like a single flower growing in the road.

Mark refused to wear black. He wore the emeralds Jack had thrust upon him, but he insisted on the whites and golds and reds of TigersEye. He stood out in the muted courts of the Emerald Division, always dark and somber, but especially black now in light of the kingdom’s disaster.

The song ended, and Jack’s feet stopped, no more automatic patterns or gestures to follow while his brain curled around thoughts of Mark like a sad little dog looking for a master. He blinked down into the smiling face of Maeran and bowed over her hand automatically, kissing her gloved fingers and thanking her for the dance.

“It is getting a bit warm in here, your Majesty,” Maeran said, demurely ducking her head so she could peer up through her eyelashes at him. “Perhaps we could go for a walk, or find a place to… _dance_ more privately?”

Could girls make their breasts heave with a word? Jack had no other explanation for the thrust Maeran gave him, suddenly wishing he were back in his room.

“I do believe someplace more private is my next goal,” Jack said, releasing her hand, “but _thoroughly_ private. I have a long journey tomorrow, Lady Maeran. I believe I will be retiring for the night.”

“I could certainly accompany you to your rooms, help you relax…”

“Mae…” Jack sighed, stepping closer to the blonde. They were nearly the same height, and he could smell the perfume she had dabbed behind her ears. “I say this in honor of our mothers’ friendship,” he murmured as she tilted her head to catch his whisper. “ _Stop._ You will not be my bride. You do not need to debase yourself. Find a man who will love _you_ , and not what you could do for him.”

“Seán!” Maeran protested, her eyes going wide.

“Stop,” Jack repeated, drawing away from the woman. “Thank you for the dance, Lady O’Briain. I had a most enjoyable night.”

Lord O’Briain tried to dissuade Jack from leaving so early, but one thing Jack had learned early on was that the king’s will was absolute. Nobody could overrule him in his own kingdom, and so long as he kept up a haughty stare just slightly above the eyeline of the dissenter, most courtiers would quickly fold beneath his wishes.

Not Mark, though. Mark was the younger brother of a king. Jack was sure that if Malcolm had ever ascended to the throne, Jack would still have seen him as his big brother Mally, his favorite person in the world. He would have teased and tormented him relentlessly in private, as he always had. Kingship would not have weakened the fact that they were brothers first. Mark clearly felt just as comfortable with his own kingly brother, and seemed to have transferred that lack of respect to Jack as well, addressing him so informally and always seeking ways to make Jack sputter helplessly into his drink.

Jack liked that Mark didn’t fold. Ever since his family had died, everyone walked on eggshells around him. He was the king, he was fragile, he was valuable. Nobody wanted to upset him.

Mark didn’t care. Mark poked and prodded at Jack, made him _feel_ again. He was far from insensitive, though. Mark always caught him at night, saw him at his weakest and carried him through to the next morning. Jack was looking forward to that now, to sagging into Mark’s arms once the door closed behind him, letting himself just be held. He pushed open the door to the antechamber, opening his mouth to call to the prince.

“And _then_ -”

Mark was not waiting at the door. Jack froze where he stood, a green fog misting in the corner of his eyes. Mark was sprawled on his back, another man crouched between his legs and leaning over him. Mark was… he had…

“ _What_ is going on here?” The emeralds were acting on their own, reacting to Jack’s surprise and anger. Mark had taken a lover? And to fuck him here, _here_ , in their shared rooms, as if he hadn’t just been flirting with Jack earlier in the evening.

The blue eyes that turned to Jack were nothing like Maeran’s soft blue, or the bright McLoughlin blue that stared at him from every portrait on his walls. No, these were a deep, brilliant blue, the blue of sapphires and power.

_Sapphire._

Now that the man was leaning back, Jack could see more of the scene. Mark was indeed naked, the sharp lines of his well-defined muscles only further defined by the trails of blood running from a flurry of cuts across his chest, his shirt shredded around him. There was horror in Mark’s dark eyes, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to breathe.

“ _Get away from him._ ” Jack didn’t have to shout. The emeralds amplified his voice, making it resonate in the room. Green fire lashed around him, filling the pathways shaped by the gauze drapings and swelling with power.

Mark wheezed from the floor, and now Jack could see that the one tigerseye he had left Mark with was stained blue, pressed so tight against his chest that the skin was white and bloodless beneath. The Sapphire had gotten through Mark’s defenses, was pinning him…

Jack lunged for the sword he had left behind. Weapons were never fashionable at parties, but they were incredibly handy when potential enemies knelt in your bedroom.

“ _Don’t!_ ” Mark’s voice cut through the emerald fog filling Jack’s head, as jagged as a piece of broken glass. It stung his mind, making him flinch before he could grab his sword. The Sapphire lurched to his feet, shoving past them and out the door before Jack could give chase.

Left alone in the room with Mark, Jack turned to face him. Mark was bleeding from a dozen cuts across his chest, with more blood smeared across his thighs. He was breathing harshly, his chest jerking roughly with each failed breath. Further down… Jack had to hate Mark for being hard, for having a swollen erection dark between his legs. He had to hate Mark or else he’d cry, from exhaustion and frustration and gods only knew what else he didn’t want to examine too closely. Emerald kings didn’t cry. “You _wanted_ me to let him go?”

“No...I…” Mark was struggling, the sapphire taint too powerful over his chest. He couldn’t breathe properly, and without breath, he couldn’t fight off the enemy compulsion.

_It would be easy, so easy, to make him pay for this transgression,_ the darkest part of Jack’s mind whispered to him. _There’s no one else here, and he’s already pinned and ready. Just fill his emeralds and give him your frustration._

Jack snorted, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. He shoved his power into Mark’s tigerseye, burning out the lingering Sapphire presence, then banished the emerald influence with another flick of his wrist. Mark sat up immediately, trying to cover himself as if he could conserve any dignity.

“He was doing something to it.” There was a rasp to Mark’s voice, a hoarseness that did not usually accompany the deep tone. Had he been trying to scream against the compulsion? “Your sword. I interrupted him…”

Mark tucked his face away, pressed it into his knees, hugging his bleeding chest, but not before Jack caught the flicker of shame across those dark eyes. All of Jack’s hatred fled, banished by the misery in Mark’s face, the small tremors shaking his shoulders. Mark grew cold easily, Jack knew. It had to be all the worse for only having one stone to call upon. He crossed the room, gathering up a wool blanket and wrapping it around Mark’s shoulders. Mark flinched away from him, but accepted the covering. He was watching Jack over the edge of the blanket as Jack wrapped a second blanket around his sword, careful not to touch it.

In the hall, several of Jack’s guards were murmuring to each other, frowning at the door. They all straightened up when Jack stepped out, and Jack pretended he didn’t see the relief in their faces. They should have come quicker when the Sapphire fled. They should have gone after him. They shouldn’t have just stood outside and let Jack potentially be assassinated.

He didn’t say any of that. “Take this to Daithi,” he said instead, holding out the wrapped sword. “Have him examine it. Don’t let anyone touch it.”

Daithi was one of Jack’s advisors, a close friend of his brothers and a very accomplished assassin. If the sword had been tampered with in any way to be dangerous to Jack, Daithi would be able to identify it.

When Jack returned, Mark still hadn’t moved. He sat on the floor, shivering, his skin pale, the blanket clutched tightly around him.

“You’re hurt?” Mark had been bleeding, cut by his own knife, from the looks of the tigerseye dagger lying beside him.

Mark didn’t even lift his head, he just closed his eyes and shook his head. “All shallow. I just need to clean them.”

“I’ll send for a healer.” Jack wasn’t sure what else he could do. He felt so helpless right now. He didn’t even know how to properly clean and dress an injury, so he couldn’t tend to Mark, repaying the favors of all the nights Mark had acted as his servants, preparing him for bed so no Emerald had to see his weakness.

Mark reacted far more strongly to that, shaking his head firmly. “I can manage.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he was shivering harder.

“You’re cold? You’re shivering still. I’ll...” Jack wasn’t sure how much of Mark’s tremors came from the coolness of the room and how many came from shock over what had just happened. Somehow, he suspected Mark would not react positively to Jack heating the emeralds he wore. “Come closer to the fire.”

For lack of anything better to do, Jack took Mark’s arms, pulling him to his feet and helping him move to the couch in front of the fire. Mark was still wearing his shoes, Jack realized, his leggings not fully removed but cut off of him as well.

“I didn’t,” Mark whispered as he curled into a blanket-wrapped ball on the cushions, leaning away from Jack. “I didn’t invite him in...I didn’t _want_ him to…”

“I believe you.” Jack bit his lip, then patted Mark on the shoulder. Was that okay? Mark hadn’t flinched from his touch earlier, but didn’t seem to want to be near him now. “Why would a TigersEye prince want enemy royalty anyway?”

Why _would_ Mark want an enemy in his bed, whether it be Sapphire or… or Emerald? The empire created by TigersEye City had consumed so many small kingdoms, and they had the habit of installing the old royal families as their viceroys, ruling in their name. There were plenty of friendly royals for Mark to court if he wanted a high-status partner. He likely hadn’t even been _flirting_ with Jack. Mark was a naturally gregarious person. He charmed anything that moved around him. It didn’t _mean_ anything.

“He was royalty?”

Mark sounded more like he was seeking a distraction than asking a genuine question. Jack could at least indulge him here. “He commanded sapphires. It was unlikely he was one of the princes themselves, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he were a cousin. He definitely had royal blood, to get you on the ground.”

_Sapphire._ Jack sagged back against the cushions, staring into the fire. Sapphire royalty, _here_? Within Emerald’s borders? Without Jack knowing? Sure, Glengorm controlled the bay, and the bay was technically part of the Sapphire Sea, but while sailors and trade were normal to cross the border here, _royalty_ was another story. The three princes of Sapphire co-ruled in their ailing father’s stead, each dangerous in his own right, but the cousins were the truly nasty ones. While the princes worked with the law, their cousins supposedly took to the sea as pirates, not nearly as successful assassins as a skilled Emerald, but capable of causing all manner of devastation. Lately, the pirates had been hounding the seaside borders of TigersEye, and the princes had reached out to Jack’s father to form an alliance. Growing up in Glengorm, his mother had been sympathetic to the Sapphire cause, and she had strongly advocated for it. Jack had been trying to honor their wishes with the agreements he had signed with the three princes, allowing the hiring of Emerald assassins and spies by Sapphire’s navy.

Mark had been the unintentional results of that agreement. Jack had known Sapphire intended to strike against the Fischbachs, but he had assumed the use of Emerald assassins would have meant _assassination_ , not _kidnapping_. When a secret envoy had returned to report to Jack and dumped their hostage at his feet…

Jack sighed internally, looking over at the broken prince beside him. Mark had weathered his captivity well, though he kept up a never-ending stream of complaints about the weather, the fashion, the dogs, the horses… he knew how to turn a complaint into a jape, could joke at his own expense, and had provided some rather useful insight to some of the more boring reports Jack had to deal with and usually threw to his scribes instead. He had made himself useful, as he promised, and while he complained incessantly about the Emerald Division, he no longer asked to go home. He had accepted that Emerald traditions meant any guest who saw the inside of their palace could never leave their borders, and he hadn’t once tried to run once Jack set him loose with emeralds.

_I wish I could let you reach out to your family._ Jack knew Mark loved his brother, and he loved both of his mothers, his father’s first and second queens. He knew Mark missed them dearly, and he hated forcing Mark to give up his family when Jack himself would have given anything to have one more day with his own. If Mark could promise him that Thomas wouldn’t retaliate against Emerald, Jack wouldn’t have had a problem with letting Mark at least write home, to let the people he loved know he was still alive and well.

Mark couldn’t promise him that, so Jack hadn’t bothered asking. Thomas was the king, and kidnapping Mark _was_ an act of war. Emerald couldn’t hold off TigersEye in its current weakened state. They had practically no defenses other than their practically-unmanned fortresses, and TigersEye possessed the largest land army seen in hundreds of years.

There was a knock at the door and Mark flinched, pulling the blanket even tighter around him. The wool was straining at his shoulders, and Jack resisted the urge to rub his back. Instead he jumped to his feet, grateful for the distraction.

Daithi himself was at the door, his green eyes hooded and dark. “Did you touch it?”

“The sword? No.” Jack leaned on the door, keeping it from opening too far and blocking what Daithi could see with his body. Mark deserved at least a bit of privacy.

“Show me your hands, Highness. Majesty. Boy.”

Jack huffed, but Daithi was unusually agitated. He could be forgiven. Jack held out his hands. Daithi grabbed his wrists, leaning in close and inspecting his exposed skin, rubbing his thumb over the gloves covering Jack’s palms and first two fingers.

“Thank the gods you’re fine.” Daithi released Jack and scrubbed his hands through his wiry hair. “That was some nasty stuff, Seán. Epibatidine, coating the scabbard and the hilt. Would’ve killed you dead.”

“That’s usually how things kill people,” Jack said, proud of himself for not letting a tremor enter his voice. Epibatidine? That was one of the most potent _Emerald_ poisons. It was almost as dangerous to make as it was to use. Just a touch to your skin was enough to kill, sinking in and tainting your blood irreparably. Even the infamous healers of TigersEye City had no antidote for it once it had gotten on you.

Sapphire had hired Emerald assassins. Had they gleaned these secrets from those operatives? Taken their poisons? Turned them against Jack? Jack didn’t want to think about the possibilities.

“I want to examine your room,” Daithi said, pushing at the door.

“The room is fine.” Jack hooked his ankle around the door to keep Daithi from opening it.

“All due respect, Seán, but it was administered sloppily-”

“He didn’t have gloves on,” Jack said. “If he were sloppy, he would have killed himself. And Mark was here. He stopped the assassin, interrupted him in his work.”

Daithi snorted and gave a little nod, glancing over Jack’s shoulder. Jack hated that most of his advisors were taller than him. “Interruption could explain the sloppy. Your pet prince okay?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, and Daithi gave him an oily smile that he knew from years of experience wasn’t actually meant to be creepy. “If you want to make yourself useful, find our host and inform him I will be speaking with him tonight. Drag him out of bed if you must.”

“Need me to fetch the princeling a healer?”

“No.” Mark had been emphatic about that, and Jack couldn’t honestly blame the other man. If he’d been… Jack wasn’t entirely sure how badly Mark had been hurt. There had been blood between his legs, but slashed down the length of his thighs, like additional cuts, not necessarily internal bleeding. He had been hard, which was not easy to do with just a chest stone, but if the Sapphire had tormented Mark with his hand before drawing the knife, it was possible…

It was also possible Mark had been _enjoying_ the pain and humiliation, but Jack doubted that was the case. He had seen the look in Mark’s eyes, heard the tears in his voice. Mark had been forced to enjoy his debasement. Jack had no idea how to help someone recover from that depth of injury.

“Thank you, Daithi,” Jack murmured, closing the door on his advisor. He glanced over at Mark, barely able to see his dark hair from the cocoon of his blanket.

There _was_ one thing Jack could do for him, though he wasn’t sure how much it would actually help. Jack curled his fingers around the large emerald at his throat, feeling it pulse against his fingers in agreement. He’d do it anyway. If Mark were anything like Jack, it would help even if it had hurt him before.

The rosewood box that held Mark’s tigerseyes safely had come along for the Grand Tour, tucked away in one of Jack’s bags. He drew it out, feeling the emerald lock warm and secure in his hand, and returned to the antechamber to sit next to Mark. He held the box out and waited silently for Mark to sense the stones within and lift his head.

“Wha…?”

There was hesitation in those dark eyes, fear of being hurt again. Jack’s heart twisted at the vulnerability he saw in that normally proud face, but he said nothing. He just touched his fingers to the top of the box, calling upon the emeralds within. As he dragged his fingers along the grain, emerald fire followed his touch, acknowledging him as the key and clicking open. Jack lifted the lid.

Mark’s expression went hungry, and he snatched for his tigerseyes. Jack didn’t try to stop him as Mark grabbed the biggest and pulled it into the blanket, probably cuddling it like a puppy. _I’m sorry,_ Jack wished he could say. _I didn’t think about how you’d feel without them. I didn’t trust you enough. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took away your protection. I’m sorry I left you defenseless. I’m sorry._

“What did he do to the sword?” There was a faint golden glitter to Mark’s eyes as he looked up again, meeting Jack’s gaze. He was drawing strength from his gems. Jack could breathe a little easier knowing Mark wasn’t completely shattered.

“Poison,” Jack murmured, deciding not to go into too many details. “If I’d touched it, I probably would have died. Potent and absorbed through the skin...thank you. You saved my life.”

“You saved mine.” Mark’s gaze dropped at the admission, but there was some of his old strength back when he looked at Jack again. “I think that makes us even.”

“It does. And it means you’ve earned some trust.” This was the very least Jack could do for Mark. He couldn’t give him back his flesh and blood family, but he could give him back his gemstone one. “You do not need to wear my emeralds any longer. I remove your leash.”

The relief that flooded through Mark’s face hurt almost as badly as seeing Mark sprawled on the floor. Mark tucked himself around his tigerseyes again, and Jack stood quickly, leaving the rest of the stones beside the prince. “I’ll post guards at the door and send for some bandages,” he informed Mark. “And then I’ll have some words with our hosts. You...you rest. And take the bed tonight.”

“Jack…” Despite his earlier relief, indicating that Mark had genuinely feared Jack would abuse the emerald leash, Mark now looked at Jack with a familiar scolding in his eyes, the mother hen look Jack had become surprisingly familiar with on this trip.

“You’re _injured_.” Jack shook his head, knowing Mark fretted over how ill he still looked. He was dying, yes, but a feather bed wouldn’t change that. “I can sleep anywhere. You deserve some comfort.”

_“There was an assassination attempt against our person.”_

The worst part about the confrontation with the O’Briain’s was not the way Maeran’s blue eyes widened in horror.

_“What precautions had you taken against this?”_

It was the way her father’s _hadn’t_.

_“How dare you invite us here and not take the most basic steps to ensure our safety?”_

When the plague swept the kingdom, so many of their soldiers fell ill. The royal guard had tapped the remaining bastions to ensure they always had the proper number to protect the royal family. All the other defenses suffered, but Jack had a full complement of guards traveling with him. After leaving Mark with bandages and clean, hot water, Jack had confronted the lord and his lady daughter.

He had left them imprisoned in their own rooms, his own guards at their doors.

“I could…” Daithi had suggested, stroking his hands over his sleeves.

Jack closed his eyes. “Him, yes,” he murmured. “Her, spare. She may be able to rebuild the family name.”

“As if the O’Briains have any family name left to restore.”

After ordering the murder of one of his stronger nobles, Jack returned to his rooms with a sick twisting in his gut. Mark had moved from the antechamber, the bloody blanket he had been wrapped in left abandoned on the floor by the door. Jack quietly eased into the bedroom, feeling only marginally safer for knowing his guards were in the hall outside.

Mark had left a lamp burning by the side of the feather bed, but he had curled up in the small pallet bed that was always a hastily-prepared last-minute addition on this trip. It was as comfortable as a makeshift cot could be, but there was no room to stretch. Mark was not a large man, but Jack knew he was no stranger to the luxury of being able to spread yourself as wide as you wished and still be cozy in your warm bed.

Although he was exhausted himself, Jack crouched beside Mark and reached out, hesitantly brushing his dark hair out of his face. It glittered red and gold in the lamplight, a poor approximation of the brilliance the sun could bring out in those dark strands. Calling his hair black, or even dark brown, was a severe understatement.

“I’m sorry,” Jack murmured. Mark didn’t stir. He was asleep, but his face was tight and drawn, a grimace pulling at his mouth. One arm was curled around his chest, but the other was tucked under his pillow. He wasn’t wearing Jack’s emeralds, but neither had he pulled on his tigerseyes. Unlike the royal Emerald family, Mark usually wore his earrings to sleep. He always left Jack’s in when he helped him get ready for bed. Jack never bothered to correct him. Sleeping with some emeralds was not something his servants usually let him do, but being able to draw from their strength overnight helped him recover some of his own while he slept. It was peculiar to see Mark’s ears so bare.

Taking a breath, Jack stepped away from the pallet and drew the blankets back on his own bed. He then turned and gathered Mark in his arms, tapping the emeralds in his crown for their strength. They grumbled at him, old and cynical, teasing him for carrying another man like a child, but they lent him their strength anyway, curling around his arms and letting him transfer Mark from the small bed into the larger one without waking him.

Mark stirred anyway, his frown growing deeper, one arm sliding under the thicker pillows again. Jack glanced back at the pallet, then lifted the pillow. Ah. His missing tigerseyes. And...a bag? Jack picked it up, feeling dried petals, and lifted it to his nose. A lavender sachet? Was this something personal for Mark? He did love flowers so. Jack tucked the gems and sachet under Mark’s pillow, watching the lines on his face smooth out when his questing fingers found them again.

Jack moved to the other side of the bed, stripping off his own emeralds. He set his heavy crown on the nightstand, rolling his neck and groaning softly at the relief from the weight. It was more than just the metal and stones he bore when he wore that crown. The entire weight of the kingdom pressed down upon his shoulders. He hated it. He would never let another take it from him. Not while he still drew breath.

Setting the last of his emeralds around the crown, Jack unwound his gauze and let it drop to the floor, then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. He glanced over at Mark. Really, he should take the pallet bed himself. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and surely Mark would appreciate not having to worry about not insulting Jack first thing in the morning.

Even as Jack decided this, though, he found himself climbing beneath the blankets of the feather bed and turning out the lamp. He laid in the darkness, listening to Mark’s breathing. Jack held his own breath, letting his hand quest out beneath the blankets, finding Mark’s side. The cuts to his chest were all high, Jack recalled, closing his eyes and picturing the scene again. He could touch Mark here without hurting him.

Mark shifted, but instead of pulling away from Jack, he pressed closer, wiggling backwards until Jack’s hand slipped over his side, brushing lightly against his belly. Jack could feel Mark’s hard muscle through the fabric of his nightshirt, and he closed the distance between them, curling against Mark’s back and pressing his face into Mark’s hair. Mark sighed in his sleep, tension draining from his body, and Jack curled his arm more tightly around Mark’s waist. “ _Mine,_ ” he whispered into the night, daring the world to take this prince from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me I should probably mention what my Tumblr actually IS, for those of you who don't know. fantismal.tumblr.com. Shouldn't have been too hard to guess. ;)
> 
> The ebook is now available as well, for half the price of the printed book (and no shipping/handling!). I had a heck of a time getting it to work, though, and couldn't figure out how to make a .mobi file for Kindles. There is a PDF available (looks the same as the physical copy, but isn't reflowable for e-readers), and a reflowable .epub (depending on your e-reader, varies between looking like absolute crap and decent). I couldn't get half the fonts to work in the .epub, and sometimes all the formatting, including chapter headings and italics, gets stripped out, but I wrestled with it for a week. Argh. If anyone knows how to convert an InDesign CC file into a pretty e-book, reach out to me! I can reward you with a physical copy of the book...?
> 
> Anyway, while there is one more Jack POV chapter in this bonus content, next week's update is a different royal character...


	7. Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Mark was away, his brother worried.

“Any word?”

Thomas didn’t lift his head from his hand at the gentle voice. He closed his eyes behind his fingers, ignoring the woman who had entered his room.

“Thomas…” She came up beside him, squeezing his shoulder. “He’s strong, and smart, and there wasn’t any of _his_ blood.”

“I know you mean well,” Thomas sighed, “but I’d like to be alone right now.”

The woman, Lady Deirdre, Thomas’ step-mother, hesitated, but she patted his shoulder and left the room, her shoes tapping against the polished wood floors.

Thomas didn’t lift his head as she left. Everything she said was true...but it didn’t mean Mark was fine.

It had been months. _Months_ since Mark disappeared from the safety of their palace. Months since his bodyguards were found dead. Months since his faithful hound tracked his scent to a river dock and whined her confusion. Months without word of him, without a demand for a ransom, without conditions given for his safe return.

Months.

The halls of the palace were empty without Mark’s laugh, his brilliant grin lighting the corridors and faces of their people. Thomas had sent Mark away before, sent him away for _longer_ than months, and he had never felt his little brother’s loss so acutely. Mark had been gone for over a _year_ after the infamous cow incident that left Ryan waddling for a week and an entire cattle market reduced to ashes, sent on an empire-wide tour to keep him busy, and Thomas had never _missed_ him. Not like this.

Thomas shoved away from the table, stalking over to his liquor cabinet. He poured himself a glass of brandy, glad that as the king, nobody frowned upon anything he did. Not to his face, at least. Nobody except Mark, at least, and Mark wasn’t bloody _around_ to frown.

Thomas drained the glass and flung it at the wall, imagining Mark’s expression at the waste. _Oh, you chastise **me** for being careless, but if you do it, it’s for the good of the country?_

“Fuck…” Thomas sank down in another chair, burying his hands in his hair. Mark had been kidnapped. If he’d run off on one of his hare-brained adventures, he wouldn’t have waited for Matt and Ryan’s day off. His two most frequent bodyguards were also his two biggest partners in crime. They kept Mark safe at the expense of the city’s calm. Mark would have brought them along. He _certainly_ wouldn’t have jabbed his substitute guards with poisoned blow darts, killing them where they stood. Guards dead and a prince gone could only mean kidnap. The trail Chica had followed seemed to confirm it: Mark had been taken from the palace and out of the city. But to where? _Why?_

The lack of ransom demands scared Thomas more than anything else. There were only two reasons to kidnap royalty: ransom or revenge. Either Mark’s kidnappers wanted something from the kingdom, in the terms of money or protection or promises, or they wanted something from the Fischbachs, paid for only in blood. Mark hadn’t been bleeding when he was taken. That didn’t mean he wasn’t bleeding now.

The empire was vast, stretching from ocean to ocean, flanked by the hostile Emeralds to the east and yet more water to the west. Thomas didn’t have time to hunt for Mark himself. He barely had time to grieve for his little brother. He had a kingdom to run, people to look after, lands to govern. It was only in moments like this, quiet minutes stolen from the end of the day, that Thomas was able to dedicate his time to the crushing weight in his heart.

No ransom. That meant revenge. That meant wherever Mark was now, Thomas has to _pray_ he was dead. If he wasn’t...if he wasn’t, he was almost certainly wishing he were.

“Mark…”

Mark Edward, the second son, so alike in face and voice, so different everywhere else. Where Thomas was quiet, Mark was loud. Where Thomas deliberated, Mark trusted his instinct. Thomas walked, Mark ran. Thomas watched, Mark _did_. They were as different as two brothers could be, but Thomas loved his rambunctious brother all the more _for_ their differences. Mark had no ambition to rule, but his heart was the biggest Thomas knew. He would never try to take the crown away from his brother, but if forced to the throne, he was not the worst choice for the kingdom. Indeed, he loved it fiercely, traveling the length or breadth of it at Thomas’ decree, spreading the king’s word to their many viceroys throughout the land. Mark was Thomas’ most trusted confidant and top advisor.

And now he was gone.

Thomas wished he had a second glass to throw. The shattering of the crystal was a better substitute for his rage than punching his pillow or glowering at the reports of no success. He felt so damn _helpless_! And with every passing day, his chances of ever recovering his little brother grew slimmer and slimmer. Even if Mark were alive, even if they managed to find him...it had been _months_. What could possibly be left of Mark’s mind after that much torture, much less of his heart?

There was a familiar knock at the door. Thomas closed his eyes, counted to ten. “Simmons.” It wasn’t really a summon, but the man at the door took it as one.

“Your Majesty.” Chancellor Simmons was a tall man, with close-cropped red hair and a crooked nose from a childhood fight. He bowed deeply to Thomas.

“You know I am not to be disturbed at this hour, except in an emergency,” Thomas said, not bothering to turn to his advisor. “You certainly do not _sound_ concerned.”

“You are right, your Majesty, this is no emergency in the traditional sense. Nor is it even truly urgent.”

“And yet you are here.”

“Because I have just heard a report your Majesty would not be pleased to wait for until morning.”

Thomas turned a cold look over his shoulder. This was his time to mourn his brother, not deal with his advisors’ squabbles.

“Your brother is alive.” Simmons did not back down from the glare, nor had he risen from his bow. “Your Majesty, the crown prince has been found.”

“As of this morning, our spies had no leads,” Thomas said slowly, not daring to get his hopes up. Mark had been ‘found’ six times since his disappearance, each one being an imposter, some knowingly, some genuinely innocent. One had even looked enough like Mark to fool Thomas for just a moment, until he had tried to smile. Thomas hated himself for being fooled, hated himself for daring to hope, hated himself for not. “Where did this report come from?”

“Not from our spies,” Simmons admitted. “There is a Sapphire envoy here.”

“ _Sapphire_ has Mark?”

“No, your Majesty.” Simmons straightened up and offered Thomas a scroll he held. “The Emerald Division. This was relayed from their spies in the mountains as quickly as possible. The three princes wish to discuss an alliance.”

Thomas took the scroll from Simmons, unrolling it without haste. _Careful, careful…_ This was the furthest away Mark had been reported, which made it somewhat more likely. He still didn’t dare to hope, didn’t dare to show he was eager to know, not even in front of his advisor.

The information within the scroll was spotty, a few chance sightings, a man in the garb of TigersEye City riding with the king of the Emerald Division. It could have been anyone, anyone at all… save for a colored sketch tucked in the scroll.

_Mark!_

The man depicted sat bored at a table, his eyes glazed over with the familiar lack of expression Mark adopted whenever someone rambled too long at a council meeting. He had a pen between his fingers, twisting it across his knuckles like Mark always did. He was stripped practically naked, wearing little more than his leggings and undershirt and unfamiliar black shoes, but around his neck was the leather band that held Mark’s first tigerseye, a stone given to him when he was named. Thomas knew that band like he knew his own, like he knew the look on Mark’s face, the careless tousle to his hair. The artist, whoever he was, had absolutely seen Mark in person. Whether that was in the Emerald Division or somewhere around here remained to be seen, but Thomas had no doubt in his mind that this was indeed a picture of his brother.

His _brother. Alive_. Alive and apparently unhurt...physically, at least. Thomas traced his finger over the last additions to Mark’s outfit, brilliant green emeralds placed across his forehead, in his ears, over his wrists, on his belt. _Emeralds._ Mark was unhurt, but he had been claimed by the Emerald Division, their mark splashed across him as plain as if they’d cut their name into his flesh. Thomas growled under his breath, the Emerald king taking shape as someone he could fight, rip, tear, _destroy_ , to get his brother back.

“This came from Sapphire?”

“The envoy waits in the council chamber.” Simmons cocked his head to the side. “Should I make an appointment for them tomorrow?”

“No.” Thomas pushed Simmons aside, striding for the door. “I shall meet with them now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support for the physical copy of this story has been so awesome! Thank you everyone! (Especially the two of you who left 5-star reviews on the Book Patch: <3 forever!)


	8. Swept Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark was unconscious in the river.
> 
> Jack wasn't.

Jack barely noticed the water choking him, actually able to see the green glow from his eyes as he threw everything he had into his hand clamped around Mark’s wrist. The river fought to tear them apart, frothing white water slamming them into stones and flinging them over the edge of short drops. Jack’s crown was gone, swept away by the river, but he couldn’t spare a moment to think about that. He needed to hold on to Mark, needed to lock the unconscious man to him by any means necessary.

Jack’s exhausted emeralds screamed as he pushed them to their limits, sinking hooks into Mark’s tigerseyes and holding him tight. Mark’s own stones were flickers of gold between white foam and green water and flecks of red in his eyes, from his lips. Jack crashed into a rock, the heavy weight of Mark’s body slamming into his ribs, the force of the water against them pinning him in place for a moment, letting Jack gasp another breath before Mark was sliding to the side and they were both ripped by the current again.

By the time the river’s force died down and their linked arms were hooked around a half-fallen tree, Jack was sure he’d swallowed most of the river. He panted weakly, his entire body numb, Mark a dead weight on the end of his arm. His tigerseyes were still glittering. It meant he was still alive, and they were still responding to _something_.

Jack dragged his free arm across his mouth, certain he had thrown up at some point in their trip down the mountainside. He sluiced the excess water off his face with his fingers, then grabbed at the old trunk they were caught on. They had to get out of the water, find shelter, get warm and dry.

The emeralds whimpered as Jack pulled their power tighter around him before he hauled himself out of the water and onto the gnarled wood. He left Mark in the river, finding it easier to crawl to the shore with the water buoying Mark’s weight. By the time he collapsed on dry land, Mark lying motionless beside him, all of Jack’s finger rings had gone dark, and he was starting to shiver. _Cold_. He hadn’t felt cold in years. This was not a good sign.

“Mark…” Jack croaked the prince’s name, fumbling over Mark’s body with fingers made clumsy from the icy river. He could make out a slow beat in Mark’s neck, a faint rise to his chest. Still alive. Not awake. Jack wiped flecks of vomit from Mark’s beard and hunched around his head, cradling it in his lap. “Don’t die on me,” he whispered. “Don’t die, you can’t die, I need you not to die…” Mark had taken a huge blow to the head. Jack hesitated to set his fingers exploring, prodding tentatively behind Mark’s ear. He could feel the blood staining his hair, sticky and warm, but it didn’t _feel_ like Mark’s skull had broken. How could you tell? The bone didn’t move beneath the injury when Jack pressed on it. Did that mean he’d be okay?

Jack shivered, the day fading quickly and drawing what little warmth was left from the air. He was soaked through, and the nights of early winter always brought a threat of frost. If they didn’t find shelter soon, they’d both freeze to death regardless of their injuries. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and reached up to touch the emerald around his throat. This one was still warm and strong, tired but not drained. _Help me…_

Everything was tinged green in Jack’s sight as he dragged Mark across his back and staggered to his feet. He stumbled away from the river, seeking shelter. Even just a rocky outcropping could provide a bit of a windbreak, be better than nothing. It was too much to hope for...a house? Was that a house?

Too sloppy to be a house, too neat to be accidental, Jack all but fell into the crude shelter of scavenged wood and a niche in the mountainside. It was already warmer inside, but the change in temperature only made Jack shiver harder. Fire. He needed a fire.

Easing Mark down near the entrance, Jack fumbled around. There were sticks against the wall, but when Jack picked them up to pile them for kindling, an old memory surfaced in his mind: Mally teaching him how to cut green sticks and bend them into a curve, looping a bit of string around the ends so he could pretend to be a warrior like the grown-ups. This was a bow, Jack realized, staring at what he held, a child’s toy.

He put it back. They were in a forest. There was wood outside, wood without potential sentimental value. Jack still had some strength to his emeralds. He didn’t need to destroy someone’s childhood.

It took far longer than Jack would have liked to gather enough wood for a fire, and by the time he had gotten one started on the stonier side of the shelter, he was shivering like the last leaf of autumn. He had dragged Mark’s cloak off his shoulders, wringing out as much water as he could before spreading it to dry. Now he was trying to recover some of his own strength, holding his hands as close to the yellow flames as he dared, hissing as the heat stung his frozen fingertips. He needed to defrost himself before he could pull Mark closer to the warmth.

As if on cue, Mark started to cough, twitching and curling on the dirt floor. Jack abandoned his fire, crawling to Mark’s side. “Mark?” The prince was gagging, about to vomit again. Jack lifted his head and held his hair back. He nearly wept as Mark reached for the ground, supporting himself on shaky arms before wiping his forearm across his mouth and looking up to meet Jack’s eyes.

“You’re awake.” Jack cupped Mark’s face in his hands, peering back at those dark eyes. It was hard to tell how dilated the pupils were. “Can you see me? You look like you’re able to focus…” Mark was tracking him, at least, watching him, so that had to be a good sign...right?

“Head hurts.” It was the correct topic and fully understandable. He was going to be okay. Jack hoped. “‘M okay.”

“Liar.” Jack would have laughed if he weren’t too numb. There was no way Mark could be okay, not after what they just survived. He caught Mark’s hands in his, pressing Mark’s cold fingers between his palms. “Come on, you need to warm up.”

It was much easier to move Mark when Mark was able to move himself. He was about as steady as Jack was, crawling closer to the fire and sinking down with his back propped against the rocks. Jack sat beside him, as close as he dared, seeking Mark’s warmth but not wanting to make things uncomfortable.

“Where are we?” Mark asked as Jack checked on the cloak and gathered it up, wrapping the damp cloth around their shoulders. It wasn’t dry, but it wasn’t cold water anymore. It was the best they could manage.

Jack shrugged, using the cloak as an excuse to press his shoulder against Mark, trying to make them both fit beneath the covering meant for one. “I think we found a child’s playhouse.”

“How…?”

“We fell into the river. Do you remember?” Jack’s breath caught as Mark shifted beside him, pulling his arm away from Jack’s shoulder but then immediately returning, wrapping it around Jack’s back and tugging him even closer. Jack fit beneath Mark’s arm, their legs pressed together, his skin tingling beneath Mark’s cold fingers on his bare shoulder. It felt...nice. Jack remembered to breathe, letting himself lean against Mark’s side.

“There was a battle…”

“Sapphire pricks masquerading as bandits.” Anger fueled a surge of heat from his emeralds, and Jack sneered at the memory. “Two attacks on Emerald in two weeks. We have a breach in our defenses.” Just a year ago, there wouldn’t have even been one. Just a year ago, their kingdom had been strong and healthy, like Jack himself.

The surge of energy dissipated, and Jack sagged against Mark’s chest. Just a year ago, Jack’s entire life had been different. “And I’m stuck at the bottom of a river, unable to do anything.”

“It could be worse,” Mark murmured, his eyes half-closed in the dim light. “You could be dead.”

_I’m dying anyway,_ Jack thought, closing his eyes and acknowledging Mark’s words with a nod. _What does it matter?_ “ _You_ could be dead,” was what he answered. “That was a nasty blow you took.” He hesitated, then confessed, “I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up.”

“Takes more than one hit to get through a Fischbach’s thick skull.” Mark sounded almost cheerful at the pronouncement, his fingers stroking over Jack’s skin, rubbing down his bicep. “Though I won’t lie, I don’t think I want to try walking anytime soon.”

“Probably for the best,” Jack said, pretending he knew why. Healers always wanted you to stay in bed. Rest was good. He shivered at the steady petting of Mark’s hand, shivered from the cold, and Mark’s grip on him tightened, pulling him closer. There wasn’t room to get closer, with Jack’s shoulder digging into Mark’s ribs, but… _I’m dying anyway. What does it matter?_ Jack threw his restraint into the cold night and turned against Mark, curling into his chest, around his leg, holding Mark like he were a large, blessedly warm doll.

“Cold?” Mark’s voice rumbled in his chest against Jack’s ear. It sounded, _felt_ good. Reassuring.

He nodded, seeing no reason to deny the truth. He kept shivering, and he knew it wasn’t from Mark’s touch. Half of his emeralds didn’t even whisper to him. The ones that were left were struggling with their primary objective: keep the dark knot in his chest from growing. “I can’t...I don’t have enough energy left to keep myself warm,” he whispered. He had burned through his last reserves in the river, on the banks, hauling Mark here and starting the fire. He didn’t dare tap his emeralds for even a drop of heat now.

“What?” Mark was shocked, and Jack couldn’t blame him. How to heat his stones had been the first trick he’d taught Mark, the easiest one for anyone with an affinity (except, perhaps, pearl). “What are you burning for, if not heat?” Mark’s finger brushed against Jack’s emerald, glowing green against his throat.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut tighter, feeling his throat swelling shut, his eyes stinging with tears. Mark sighed above him, closing his arms around Jack and drawing him even closer, into his lap. Jack said nothing, just curled into Mark’s chest, finding a scrap of bare skin at Mark’s neck and nuzzling into the contact. He felt better like this, slowly warming up. _Mark_ was warm. Jack sighed, hating how his body prickled as feeling returned but knowing it was good. Mark was…his _stones_ were warm. Usually, the stones only reflected their heat in toward the one they were tied to. Mark had to be turning his outward on purpose, trying to share his heat with Jack. If this had been any other time, any other place, Jack would have scolded Mark for tapping his stones so soon after a head injury. For now, he could only reach up, pressing his fingers against the stone Mark wore around his neck.

Mark covered Jack’s fingers with his own, holding his hand like he cared. He tucked his face against Jack’s hair, his breath tickling the top of Jack’s head, and suddenly Jack couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I’m sick,” he whispered, forcing the words out around the lump in his throat. “The plague, I never...I never recovered. We don’t wear our emeralds to bed, so when we were bedridden...no emeralds. My family died, one by one. The kingdom was panicking, and I… I couldn’t allow myself to go too. Not until there was an heir.” The more he said, the easier it was to say. Jack hadn’t told anyone this, hadn’t actually _said_ it aloud before. He didn’t even know if any of his advisors had realized what he had done. He shivered in Mark’s arms, fingers clenching in Mark’s hold. “Wade brought me my emerald. It’s been holding off the disease, but… it froze it, it didn’t heal it. Emeralds can’t heal. When its strength is depleted...when it’s exhausted, I _will_ die.” His voice cracked, and Jack tucked his face tighter against Mark’s neck, no longer sure if the dampness on his face was from his tears or the lingering traces of the river.

“Jack…” Mark sounded crushed, hugging Jack tighter against him.

“I wish you had been a healer,” Jack whispered. He felt safe in Mark’s hold, despite his aching body and fading emeralds. He felt safe enough to confess to all of this, at least. “I don’t want to die.”

“I won’t let you,” Mark said. “Jack, I won’t let you die, okay? I promise. I’ll find a way to fix this.”

His words were spoken into Jack’s green hair, hot and fervent against his scalp. Jack gave a hoarse laugh, shaking his head. “What could you possibly do?”

“I don’t know.” Mark nuzzled against Jack’s head with a sigh, his arms secure around Jack’s chest. “For now…keep you warm.”

Jack tipped his head back to look at Mark. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything more to say. _I’m dying._ He wished Mark understood, this wasn’t something they could fight. Jack had been living on borrowed time, but now he could feel his death creeping up behind him. _I just hope it will be like this._ Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad, if Mark held him through it, kept him warm.

Mark’s eyes were sharp in the flickering firelight, and he leaned down suddenly, his lips connecting with Jack’s. The contact jolted into him, drawing a gasp from Jack’s throat, a sudden flicker of defiance sparked within his chest. “I won’t let you die.” Mark’s words were hot in Jack’s mouth, searing fresh life into him from the inside out. “I promise.”

It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t anything resembling a proper kiss. It was a pact, a promise, but when Jack looked into Mark’s eyes, he saw the truth there. It wasn’t a kiss, but Mark wanted one. Jack had seen that desire countless times before, but for the first time in over a year, he actually felt like responding. He pried one hand away from Mark’s tigerseye, sliding his fingers through Mark’s dark hair. “I trust you…” he whispered, drawing Mark close for a real kiss, a first kiss, a promise of many more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, I forgot to update this morning! Here you go, a little longer chapter than the last one, to make up for your patience!


	9. Clash of Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Seán had a lot of time to talk while Seán recovered in bed.

Thomas glanced up from the report he was reading, savoring this quiet hour. For many months, he had spent this time in the evening with thoughts of his brother, missing him like a lost limb, wondering if he’d ever see Mark again. Now, he was sitting in the same room as the younger Fischbach, silently soaking in Mark’s presence and relaxing in the knowledge that Mark was safe and home, or at least in TigersEye-controlled territory again.

Mark looked over and smiled at Thomas. He was back, but he was different. Thomas hadn’t expected Mark to be the same man he had been before his kidnapping, but these changes were not the ones he had been fearing. Mark felt... older now. Not older than Thomas, but older than he had been. Wiser. More mature. Mark could sit quieter now, and some of the frantic energy that had always been his hallmark had hardened within his eyes, forming a deep core of strength. Mark was finally growing into an adult, and while Thomas still missed the boy who would scamper and play, he was looking forward to getting to know the man taking shape in his place.

Unfortunately, Mark did not return from the Emerald Division only with more maturity. He also came with a dangerous lover, a frail scrap of a king who kept drawing Mark back like a moth to a flame. Thomas let his eyes linger on the living skeleton on the bed between them, a frown tugging irresistibly at his lips. King McLoughlin wasn’t even awake, and Mark would scarcely leave his side. That was why Thomas came to join Mark in the sick house, instead of Mark sitting in Thomas’ drawing room. Right now, Mark sat with one of the Emerald king’s thin hands clasped in his, lightly tracing his fingers along the line of his scalp, looking down at the ailing man with all the tender love and open affection he used to only show to his puppy.

Why? What did Mark see in that man? It certainly wasn’t his power or his kingdom, as Mark needed neither and tried to convince Thomas of the same. He certainly wasn’t much to look at, though Thomas was willing to credit at least some of McLoughlin’s macabre appearance to the sickness that had plagued him for months. That would explain his sunken face, and the green bruises spread across his skin were from their tumble down a mountainside—Mark sported his own set, hidden beneath his clothing. Even with that aside, though… McLoughlin’s hair was green and gray, his skin the color of spoiled milk. He wore colorless, body-hugging clothes that left nothing to the imagination, and Thomas suspected he was even shorter and smaller than Mark himself when he stood. Thomas had long been aware that Mark didn’t care about the gender of his lovers, but Mark had always been drawn to beautiful ones. McLoughlin was not beautiful. He looked worn-out and old, even in his sleep.

And yet Mark looked at him like he was the most amazing thing in the world, spoke softly around him, defended him sharply. Mark had stood between Thomas and the Emerald king, threatening to turn on TigersEye if Thomas dared to raise a hand against their enemy’s leader.

Mark never threatened Thomas, aside from in a joking, brotherly fashion. It was one of the things Thomas cherished the most about his brother, especially the more he interacted with other royal families from the various territories. Mark was a rare second son who had no ambition of becoming king, no desire to stab Thomas in the back and take his crown. Mark supported Thomas in everything he did, working tirelessly to make Thomas’ reign a strong and healthy one, never once even hinting at wanting to try his hand at control himself. Thomas trusted Mark, knew he could trust Mark with his life. That was no small faith, not for the king of the largest known empire in the world.

_If you hurt him now, I will turn on you._ Thomas could still hear the conviction in Mark’s voice, the memory sharp even days later. _Do that and you’ll lose me._ For all their lovers, their quarrels, their differences of opinion, Mark had never openly positioned himself against Thomas before. This waif of a king had done something to Mark to shake his loyalty of thirty years.

“Have you slept with him?”

“W-what!?” Mark sputtered up at Thomas, his face coloring as he squeezed the unconscious king’s hand. “What kind of question is that!?”

“I’m just trying to figure this out.” Thomas gestured at the pair. “Why he has such a hold over you.”

“He doesn’t,” Mark began, until Thomas pinned him with a raised eyebrow and looked pointedly at their joined hands. Mark’s face went an even darker red, and he looked down. His eyes still glittered gold, another new change, but they were soft again as he took in the king’s sleeping face. “...maybe he does.”

“But why?” Thomas repeated. “Is he that impressive in bed?”

Mark scowled at Thomas, his body curving protectively toward McLoughlin. “I can’t tell if you’re insinuating that I only care because he’s my whore or I’m his, but I don’t care for it either way.”

That rebuke wasn’t fully undeserved. Thomas kept his mouth shut as he studied the pair, contemplating his next words more carefully.

How could Thomas say he was worried? Mark had been Emerald’s thrall for months. The gods only knew how much emotional manipulation this frail king had done to his little brother. Mark had been draped in emeralds for most of his captivity. He admitted that much himself. He had been stripped of his protective tigerseyes and forced to wear the stones of the enemy, while in the care of the one who could wield the power of said stones. Thomas had no idea how deep those hooks had reached.

“Did he ever control you?” Thomas asked.

“If you’re still talking about sex, no. Jack wouldn’t do that.”

That wasn’t what Sapphire intelligence had told Thomas. According to them... well, they hadn’t actually said much in the way of details, opting instead to be “delicate” and setting the scene of Mark, half-naked and controlled by emeralds, and a young, randy king not wanting to risk bastards with the royal blood so thin. They had let Thomas’ imagination fill in the rest, claiming they didn’t want to insult the king’s brother.

Mark himself had all but confirmed Thomas’ worst imaginations, stealing brandy even as he claimed he had never been humiliated, never made to fulfil another man’s desires while in the Emerald Division. Thomas knew alcohol made his brother sick. If it had been that bad that Mark needed to fortify his nerves even as he lied to Thomas’ face…

Someone had forced themselves upon his brother. Thomas wanted to know if the fragile man in the bed was the one to blame.

“What about non-sexually?”

Mark blew out a frustrated breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked at Thomas. “Once. And in his defense, I did have a sword in his side and my arm around his neck.”

“And he controlled you?”

“He made me drop the sword and get on my knees. Not sexually. Just to keep me contained until he could decide what to do next.” Mark’s mouth tightened, glancing to the king, and then he looked back at Thomas again. “And for the record, no. We haven’t fucked. I can count the number of kisses we’ve shared on one hand, and they’ve all been in the past week. That’s it, that’s the extent of our relationship. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I’m not asking to embarrass you, Mark.” Five kisses? Or less? _Five?_ And Mark was this enthralled? “I’m merely trying to understand.”

“What is there to confuse you?” Mark demanded. “He has been a gracious and considerate host for my time in the Emerald Division. The only times he’d so much as threaten to treat me as a true prisoner were very likely the same sort of times you’d threaten to flex your kingly powers and throw me in the dungeons: he’s every bit as much fun to tease as you are. More so, perhaps, for not being used to it.”

“I can understand you liking someone like that,” Thomas said, watching how Mark barely tore his eyes away from McLoughlin for more than a minute. “But this is more than just like, Mark. You are infatuated. You were never like this before, not even with Jess or Chad…”

“Jack is more than Jess or Chad,” Mark muttered. “He’s just…” Mark groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, it was to look at McLoughlin. “Remember when Dad met Dee? How he’d look at her? How we just knew, when we saw him look at her, that she was going to make him happy again?”

“Of course I do.” The Lady Deirdre had been a godsend after the rough crumbling of the union between their parents. She hadn’t tried to enter their lives, but her soft words and bright smile had brought the sun back to their father’s face. Thomas and Mark couldn’t help but love her for it, and she in turn loved them like a second mother.

“I feel like I imagine Dad must’ve, when I’m with him. Even just like this, just being near him. I mean, not just like this, I’m fucking worried sick over him right now, and I keep thinking he’ll die if I leave the room, but you know. When he was awake. Even before I kissed him.”

“I don’t doubt you love him, Mark,” Thomas said quietly. He didn’t, either. Mark clearly treasured this man, and Thomas didn’t believe for a moment that Mark was putting on an act to fool him. “I worry that he doesn’t love you.”

“I don’t care.” Mark touched McLoughlin’s sharp cheek, then folded his arms and rested his head beside the other man. “I’ll still be here.”

Thomas sighed, closing his eyes. “Perhaps you should, Mark. Remember, Dad loved Mom too, and she did not feel the same depth of passion for him. It ruined them, in the end.”

“It won’t be like that with Jack,” Mark insisted. His hand had slid into McLoughlin’s again.

“I hope, for your sake, it isn’t.” Thomas closed the report and rose to his feet. “Good night, Mark. Try to get some rest tonight. He won’t die if you sleep.”

“Good night, Thomas. I’ll try.”

@>\---}----~----{---<@

“Your Majesty?”

Thomas closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against his forehead. “Yes, Simmons?”

“The prince wishes you to know that King Seán has awoken.” Thomas looked up to see the distasteful curl to Simmons’ lip. The chancellor didn’t like Mark. It probably was related to Mark’s determination to make the stuffy red-head lighten up a little, usually by means of exceedingly damp or dirty pranks. He was probably rankling at being used as a messenger boy by a man half his age.

Truth be told, Thomas didn’t care for Simmons much either. He was a legacy from his father’s era, brilliant at managing the treasury, too useful to dismiss. Simmons had an unpleasant habit of trying to curry favor with Thomas while at the same time dismissing him as so much less of a king than his father.

“Thank you, Simmons,” Thomas said. “Please inform Prince Mark that I will see him in my drawing room at two bells.”

Simmons hesitated, his mouth opening, but then he grimaced a smile and bowed. “Yes, your Majesty.”

Mark showed up late, but that was nothing new. Truthfully, Thomas would have been alarmed if the Emerald Division had taught his brother how to be punctual. Mark’s eyes were all but glowing, and he had a smile wide enough to nearly split his face in two.

“You wanted to see me?”

Thomas glanced over at his brother. Mark was slightly flushed and breathless. Either he had been canoodling with the other king, or, far more likely, he had heard the bells ring, realized he was late, and had run all the way to Thomas’ rooms. “Where are your guards?”

“I left Matt and Ryan with Jack.”

Thomas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Mark, they are _your_ guards…”

“Jack needs them more right now,” Mark argued. “He’s very weak, and they’re the only ones I’d trust to watch over him when I’m not there. Besides, Tralee is completely infested with TigersEye right now. It’s not like I’m going to disappear from under your nose again.”

_We don’t know that,_ Thomas didn’t say, didn’t want to acknowledge his secret fears. He remained seated, calm, in control. “In regards to his weakness, how is his health?”

Mark eyed Thomas suspiciously through those gold eyes. “He’s recovering quickly,” he said, obviously picking his words carefully. “He’s in remarkable condition for having been living on little more than broth for a week. I’m sure a few square meals will have him back to his old self again.”

Privately, Thomas suspected it would take more than just a few square meals to restore any sort of vitality to the frail man he had seen just last night. He did not risk offending Mark by voicing his thoughts. “When do you think he will be strong enough to speak with me?” At Mark’s start of surprise, Thomas frowned at him. “I did promise you I would speak with him before continuing our campaign, did I not?”

“Oh, yes, I...was hoping you’d just...decide to go home,” Mark finished weakly.

“There have been so many stories and half-truths around me,” Thomas explained. “I have not yet decided who to believe.”

A flash of hurt danced across Mark’s face, but he swallowed his protests. He _had_ grown up, Thomas noted. Just last year, Mark would have scolded him for not trusting him fully.

“You yourself told me you would not tell me the whole truth,” Thomas reminded Mark quietly. “I do trust that.”

Mark nodded slowly, looking down at his knees. “Thomas, I...I just need to keep him safe. I’m sorry.”

“I do not doubt you love him,” Thomas said, rising to his feet and crossing the room to stand beside his brother. Mark made to stand himself—one shouldn’t sit in the presence of a standing king—but Thomas kept him in his seat with a hand on his shoulder. “Nor do I fault you for it,” he assured his brother, squeezing gently. “But I need to hear from him myself before I make up my mind. I won’t act on only half the facts.”

“You know...he’d probably say the same thing,” Mark said. “You two have a lot in common.”

“Including, I hope, a great love for you.” Thomas ruffled Mark’s hair, loving how Mark barked his surprised laugh.

“Jack will talk to you whenever you want,” Mark said, looking up at Thomas, and _there_ , there was that adoration Thomas had missed, recognizable even in gold eyes. There was the little brother who loved him, who would never stab him from behind. “Just…go easy on him, okay? He’s been through a lot. He might not be up to full political sharpness.”

“Tomorrow,” Thomas decided. “After breakfast, which you will share with me. You can introduce us properly then.”

@>\---}----~----{---<@

Mark spent the night in McLoughlin’s room, as he had every other night. He refused any offer of a pallet bed. Thomas wondered if Mark slept sitting beside the Emerald king, or if he climbed into his bed...or if he even slept at all. Every day, Mark’s eyes were brighter. Mark had told him it was a side effect of drawing strength from his tigerseyes and nothing to be alarmed about, but Thomas couldn’t help but worry. Minx had told him what she had found beneath Mark’s clothing: broken ribs, a twisted ankle, and countless bruises and scrapes, in addition to a severe head wound and a fractured hand from when he punched the wall in front of Thomas. Mark didn’t move like someone so injured, and that too, Mark claimed, was due to his tigerseyes. Thomas was still new to the idea of wielding your gemstones actively instead of merely passively drawing from their innate powers or spells layered over them, but surely this much usage couldn’t be healthy.

Unfortunately, the only other who might know was still classified as unfriendly in Thomas’ eyes. Perhaps that would change today, depending on their conversation. Thomas hoped he could at least glean some information about what Mark was actually doing with his gemstones without looking too ignorant.

After breakfast, Mark took Thomas to the king’s room. He knocked on the door, but he pushed it open without waiting for a response.

The difference one day of consciousness could make was astounding. The king sat up in his bed, propped up with pillows. Emeralds glittered around his person, far more jewelry than his skintight bodysuit could have kept hidden. Thomas knew immediately that Mark had concealed the gems, and he had returned them. _You armed our enemy…_ He could only hope McLoughlin behaved appropriately.

The biggest change was in McLoughlin’s face. Just being awake brought a bit of life back to his sallow features, but Thomas had not been expecting the brilliant blue of his eyes. When McLoughlin looked up at him, those eyes inquisitive yet wary, Thomas immediately knew one of the reasons why Mark had fallen so hard. Asleep, this king wasn’t much to look at, but awake, he was transformed. It still wasn’t enough to explain Mark’s complete infatuation, but those eyes alone would have warranted a second look from his younger brother.

“Jack, this is my brother, Tom. Thomas. King of TigersEye City and the Empire. Tom, this is Jack. Seán. McLoughlin. King Seán. Of the Emerald Division.”

Mark stumbled over the introduction like he had the first time he introduced the maiden he was bedding to their mother. Thomas would have laughed if he hadn’t been in the presence of another royal.

“King Seán.”

“King Thomas.” Seán inclined his head, his voice raspy in his throat, lightly tinged with the mountain accent. It was pleasant enough, Thomas supposed, but nothing heart-wrenching. “Forgive me for not standing. I am a bit indisposed at the moment.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Thomas assured Seán. “Mark, if you’ll leave us now?”

“Wait, what? Leave?” Mark looked between Thomas and Seán, but neither king turned their gaze from each other.

“If you please,” Thomas said, making it clear he was not actually offering a choice. “We have much to discuss between kings.”

“ _Ass,_ ” Mark muttered, too quiet for Seán to hear across the room. He forced a smile and a polite bow before turning and exiting the room, closing the door forcefully behind him.

Seán blinked slowly at the slam, but then gestured to Mark’s usual chair beside his bed. “Please, will you take a seat?”

Thomas inclined his head and moved to sit beside Seán, letting his eyes wander over the weaker king with undisguised curiosity. Seán shifted only slightly beneath Thomas’ gaze, smoothing out the blankets over his lap before returning the questioning look.

“Mark has told me quite a bit about you,” Thomas said. “None of it bad.”

“Oh really?” Seán asked. “Then I highly doubt he’s been truthful. He has spoken very highly of you as well.”

“And in that regard, been entirely honest,” Thomas said. There was a flicker of almost amusement in the corner of Seán’s expression.

“You are his brother,” Seán said. “He can’t help but look up to you.”

“So why so much praise for you?” Thomas watched Seán carefully, recognizing the sure signs of a political mask to hide his true feelings. It was a skill no good king could do without, but it was also a skill a very good king could peer behind. Seán was perhaps a bit surprised by the bluntness of the question, but he was not upset by it.

“I suspect it is because he has grown fond of me and realizes that right now, I am the prisoner in enemy territory,” Seán answered, meeting Thomas’ gaze with a challenge in his blue eyes. “He’s trying to give me as much of an advantage as he can, since he is not directly responsible for my well-being, unlike when our situations were reversed.”

_That’s one way to put it._ Thomas leaned back in his chair, studying the other man. “He insists that you were an exceptional host.”

“That is certainly not the impression he gave me.” Seán’s voice was light, but there was a caginess to his eyes that Thomas respected. “He held me personally responsible for every affront, from the bad weather to the lack of flowers in winter.”

That _did_ sound like Mark. His brother loved to complain...but Thomas also knew that the more Mark voiced his complaints, the less upset he actually was. If he had whined incessantly to Seán, then he genuinely could not have been uncomfortable in the Emerald Division.

“You took my brother from me,” Thomas murmured.

“You took my town,” Seán countered. “And in interest of honesty, I did not take him, merely kept him safe, or as safe as I could.”

There it was again, a hint that something worse had happened to Mark. Thomas hid his frown behind his own political mask. Seán’s face was carefully impassive, revealing nothing more of the truth. “I’m keeping your town safe. Or as safe as I can.”

“I’d like it back.” There was a twist of a smile to Seán’s lips, but the humor did not reach his eyes. The younger man was very serious. “You have your brother restored to you, in one piece. You should return my town.”

“And if I don’t?” Thomas was careful not to put any threat behind the words, just curiosity. He didn’t want to anger Seán just yet, but was interested to see how the other king would react.

“I’ll be very upset,” Seán said. “Mark says you haven’t harmed too many of the townspeople, aside from the guards who resisted your initial invasion, so I won’t hit you, but I’ll frown.”

“Just frown?”

There was one of those razor sharp smiles again, with no amusement to soften the expression. “Mark doesn’t like it when I frown.”

_You’d turn him against me further._ Thomas rankled at the knowing look in those blue eyes. Seán was in the weaker position right now, injured and ill, with no guards of his own. His kingdom might very well be assuming he was dead after his fall into the river, and they would not come looking for him in the hands of the invading TigersEye army. Seán only had one true weapon at his disposal, and that was Mark’s love for him, and Thomas’ love for Mark.

“You’d use him.”

“He understands how politics are played. He’d understand why.” Seán shook his head slightly. “And I wouldn’t make him do anything to fight for my people. He keeps deciding that on his own.”

_You’ve already turned him against me._ Thomas knew what Seán was pointing out so delicately. Mark had picked his side. He claimed he was still loyal to TigersEye, but both kings knew that Mark followed his heart first, and right now, his heart was in the thin fingers of this blue-eyed waif.

“Why does he love you?” Thomas demanded.

Seán laughed, his mask cracking for a moment, revealing either genuine incredulity or a fantastic actor. “Love? Mark doesn’t love me. He’s... I’m not entirely sure. He mothers me. He sees me as something he needs to protect. His defensiveness peaked when he learned...of my illness.” Seán’s eyes were hooded, and he reached up to brush his fingers over the large emerald at his throat.

_Are you blind or stupid?_ Thomas wondered. Seán had been the youngest of five children, Mark said. He hadn’t been trained to play the political game, so that was far more likely an honest reaction. Although...five kisses in a week? Perhaps Mark had been hiding his affection from those blue eyes, only letting it out when Seán was unable to see, unconscious in his sickbed.

“Your brother saved my life,” Seán said quietly. “He feels I saved his, but...I do not believe his life was ever truly in danger. His health and well-being, yes, his safety, but not his life. Everyone knows the TigersEye prince is a valuable bargaining chip to have.”

“And yet you did not try to bargain with me.” Thomas folded his arms. “You held him secret for months.”

“I had no need to bargain at first,” Seán answered, lifting his eyes back to Thomas’. “If I had learned you took Tralee while I was still with my court, perhaps then I would have offered Mark in return for the retreat of your invasion. Unfortunately, Mark rather ruined that opportunity by carrying me into the heart of your camp himself.”

“And so he saved your life. And you are indebted to him.” There was a slight nod from Seán, an awareness of the situation. Thomas drummed his fingers against his arm, thinking. “Tell me what happened. From the beginning. And do not think to spare my feelings.”

@>\---}----~----{---<@

Thomas talked with Seán for two days. He had permitted Mark to return Seán’s crown, recovered from the river by their scouts, after the first day. Seán did not wear it when he spoke with Thomas, but he left it beside his bed.

Mark only left Seán’s side when Thomas forced him away, during the day when Thomas was discussing politics with the younger man, or in the mornings, when Thomas demanded Mark join him for breakfast as his daily reminder that Mark was alive and safe and well. Largely well. His eyes had been pure gold when Thomas left Seán’s side the previous night, trading places beside the Emerald king with his younger brother. This morning...Thomas frowned at the empty seat across from him. This morning, Mark was more than merely late. He was completely absent.

Thomas stormed across the town, throwing open the door to McLoughlin’s room, certain he’d find his wayward brother there. Seán looked up, startled at the intrusion, his blue eyes wide, but Thomas had to freeze at the scene.

Mark was asleep, bent over the bed, his head in Seán’s lap. Seán had been touching him, stroking his hair, tracing his fingers down the line of his jaw, an open look of disbelief and admiration upon his face. There was no political guile in the tender scene Thomas had walked in on, just a soft love that echoed the looks Mark gave Seán.

_You love him,_ Thomas realized, seeing the fright in Seán’s eyes. _You love him, and you can’t believe he loves you back, and you’re so scared I’m going to take him from you._ Thomas knew that feeling all too well. Not in a romantic sense, not toward his brother, but the fierce, overwhelming love for this irritating, impossible man, the difficulty believing in your own luck that he chose to love you in return, to put your whims and wishes above his own...and the debilitating fear that another king was snatching him away. But Seán wasn’t actually trying to take Mark, Thomas realized. Mark was giving himself. Not because he didn’t love Thomas any more, but because he had found a new love, a romantic love, a soul-love.

“Mark is supposed to join me for breakfast,” Thomas said, unsure of how else he could explain himself.

Seán shook his head, his hand flattening against Mark’s hair. “He crashed. He’ll be completely useless if you wake him now, before his body has recovered.” He glanced at Mark, and then back up at Thomas, his fingers moving again through Mark’s dark hair. “He will likely be awake by dinner. I can send him to you then.”

Mark shared his dinners with Seán. Thomas suspected they were as important to this king as Mark’s breakfasts were for Thomas. He shook his head, closing the door behind him and moving to the chair on the other side of the bed, where he would sit while Mark waited for Seán to wake. “What do you mean, he crashed?”

“Overuse of his tigerseyes.” Seán kept trying to look at Thomas, but his eyes kept being drawn back to Mark. Thomas hid a smile at the struggle, remembering it all too well from Mark’s vigil at Seán’s side. “He’s still very new to gem-wielding, very weak, and he’s been drawing from them more and more every day. Surely you’ve noticed his eyes?” Seán glanced to Thomas, and Thomas nodded. “I’m not sure why he hadn’t stopped. He’s warm here, and safe. He doesn’t need to sit up all night guarding me, and he’s not using them for defense…” Seán’s fingers stilled behind Mark’s right ear, where Minx had reported the head injury, and he closed his eyes with a grimace. “How hurt is he? He refuses to tell me, keeps insisting he’s fine.”

“Enough to alarm the healers,” Thomas said quietly. “The head injury there is likely the worst, but he has broken bones in his ribs and hand, a badly sprained ankle, and numerous cuts and bruises.”

“He took the head injury in the fight on the bridge, trying to pull me out of the river,” Seán murmured. “The bruises and broken ribs were almost certainly from the river itself...I know exactly when our ribs broke.” He touched his own chest, pressing his lips together tightly at a memory. “His ankle...might have happened in the river, or when he was carrying me. I don’t remember much of the last day. His hand…” Seán lifted Mark’s hands, examining them, noticing the cuts across his right knuckles. He frowned, gently moving each of Mark’s fingers. “I don’t remember him having a hand injury…”

“He punched a wall here,” Thomas explained. “Minx informed me it was broken, but it doesn’t look swollen.” He wanted to move closer, to examine Mark himself now that his brother was still, but he didn’t want to intrude on the couple.

“Tigerseyes are healing stones,” Seán said, setting Mark’s hand back on his lap. He smoothed his fingers through Mark’s hair again, then looked over at Thomas. “Emeralds cannot heal. They can hold off illness or pain, but they cannot cure or mend, merely delay. Tigerseyes are a softer stone. They are rubbish at attack, but they can fix what is damaged. If Mark has been drawing from his stones for the entire time I’ve been in bed, he might very well be nearly back to full health...at the cost of his own fatigue.”

“I see that,” Thomas noted. Mark hadn’t even stirred once since Thomas had entered the room, not even when Seán was manipulating his injured hand. “You think he’ll be awake this evening?”

“It’s hard to tell exactly,” Seán said, “but I would not expect him to sleep more than a day. His stones aren’t drained.” He tapped a finger against one of Mark’s rings. “Mark doesn’t have the skill yet to summon every drop of power from them. He has completely drained his own energy, but he hasn’t yet figured out how to supplement it with theirs.”

“Is that what you did?” Thomas asked. “Why you were asleep for so long? The healers were worried. They all thought you should have woken up sooner.”

Seán looked down at his own hands, nodding gently. “I...have a lot more experience in this than Mark does. I drained myself many months ago, using my emeralds to keep myself fueled. These,” Seán reached over to touch his crown, laying his hand gently across the iron points, “are old and powerful, huge wells of energy. I was living off of their power. Without them…” He shrugged, looking back at Mark, not at Thomas. “I crashed. I needed to replenish my energy many times over, to make up for how much I had drawn away.”

“Mark refused to leave your side while you were asleep,” Thomas said. “I had to come here if I wanted to see my own brother.”

With every passing day, Seán looked a bit less dead. The extra color to his skin was only highlighted when he blushed, as he did now. “Mark...has been sensing this crash coming for months now. He’d fret over me, try to get me to sleep more and work less.”

“Mark has a penchant for taking care of others,” Thomas said. “He’s usually right to worry.”

Seán sighed, closing his eyes. “I knew he was. I knew I would crash myself. If we hadn’t been attacked and swept away in the river, I could have kept myself going for several more months, but then...but then when I crashed, it would have killed me.”

“You’re quite lucky, then, to have crashed around the best healers in the world.”

“I am,” Seán murmured, opening his eyes and looking back at Thomas. “Quite honestly, your Majesty, I did not expect to be alive to see the next spring.”

“Why did you push yourself so hard, if you knew it would kill you?” Thomas asked. Seán had not retreated behind his political mask yet, and Thomas was doing the best he could to keep his off his face as well, to speak with Seán not as enemy royalty, but as another man who understood what it meant to love Mark. It seemed to be working, keeping the other king talking openly. “Mark told me of your trip around your kingdom, but surely your people would have suffered more with your death than without seeing you for one year.”

“I needed a marriage,” Seán answered. “I wasn’t going to find a partner in the palace.”

“Perhaps that could be our conditions.” Thomas glanced down at where Mark was still fast asleep in Jack’s lap. “You know I still don’t trust you...but I trust him.”

Seán’s lips drew tight, and he shook his head. “I won’t marry your brother.” When Thomas looked at Seán, Seán went a little pinker. “My entire family is dead. I am the sole descendent of Emerald. I need to father children. Charming as Mark may be, he is...lacking.”

“One of our cousins, then,” Thomas decided, watching Seán closely for his reaction. “We will not spare Minx, but she does have a younger sister, and if she’s not to your liking, there are several other women in our extended family.”

Seán’s face smoothed out, his true emotions hidden behind his political mask, but Thomas could see the distaste in his eyes. Seán’s hands were tightening around Mark, hugging the other man closer to his legs, betraying what his face did not. Seán didn’t want to settle for a cousin, no matter what his kingdom’s needs actually were.

It actually reassured Thomas to see Seán’s distaste for the idea, and he rose to his feet, coming around the bed to stand beside Mark and bat Seán’s hands away. The other king released him reluctantly. “Move over. Mark’s been through enough. He doesn’t need to add a stiff back on top of his injuries.”

Seán frowned, but he shifted away from Thomas as requested, very reluctantly lifting Mark off his lap. Thomas flipped the blankets back, lifting Mark easily out of the chair and transferring him to the bed beside Seán. The Emerald king stared at Thomas with surprise as Thomas pulled Mark’s boots off and tucked him in. “Keep him safe, your Majesty,” Thomas said, smoothing his hand over Mark’s forehead before drawing back. “And tell him not to be late for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll let you rest as well. Your health is still fragile.”

“Of course. Thank you, King Thomas.” Seán moved closer to Mark before Thomas had even reached the door, one arm wrapping around his brother.

Thomas paused, his hand on the knob. “No need to be so formal,” he decided. “Mark loves you. You might as well call me Thomas. Or Tom.”

Those blue eyes were bright in the dim room as Seán looked back at him. “He calls me Jack,” the other king said. “I only ever let a handful address me so informally. I... would be honored if I could count you among them.”

Thomas nodded before leaving the room. That settles it, he realized. We’re brothers in all but name, bound by our love for Mark. Thomas wouldn’t take Seán’s... Jack’s kingdom. He would have to help him take it back.

Mark was going to be insufferable when he woke up.

Thomas was looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really bad at remembering what day is Monday! I do have some good news, though: I finally got a full-time job! It's actually basically the exact same job I had before, minus the crazy agency in the middle. Woooo!
> 
> That does mean I'll be better about remembering what day is Monday!


	10. Tiger's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark helps Tom unlock his power.
> 
> He learns something new in the process.

“I’d say you were doing a great job, except I don’t actually know.” Mark laughed, leaning back and propping himself up on his arms. “I only have myself to judge your progress on, and Jack kept praising me for being so ‘gifted.’”

“Uh-huh. Sure he did. Sure he was just talking about your affinity.” Thomas nodded his sarcastic agreement, chuckling as Mark stuck out his tongue in response. “Am I not as gifted as you, then?”

“Uh…” Mark shrugged. “About the same? I mean, you don’t seem to be _struggling_ with any of it, but Jack also said there was a difference between him and me because he was a king and I was a lowly prince. Maybe it’s the same for you and me too? Like, Jack said his crown helped him control the emeralds, and his clothes. Maybe we’re the same?”

Thomas looked down at his outfit, simple black and gold hunting garb, the perfect level of comfort for a relaxing day in the winter palace. “Nobody ever told me anything about clothes influencing the tigerseyes.”

“Yeah,” Mark sighed, letting himself fall back against the grass. The winter palace of TigersEye was in the south, near the coast. It was warm here, with a bright sun and cloudless sky. Mark stared up at the blue above him and wondered what Jack was up to. “If you look at the paintings of our family, the fashion’s always changing. It’s not like Emerald. Every king of the Emerald Division wore the exact same thing. Every queen, too.”

“But with skirts,” Thomas said.

Mark shook his head. “Not really, actually. Not the McLoughlin queens. Like... Jack’s mother married into the family, so she didn’t have the affinity, so she wore dresses and stuff. But when his sister was queen, short-lived though her reign was, she would have worn the same sort of bodysuit Jack wore, and all the green drapery. Because she did have the affinity.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Indecent.”

Mark shrugged. “It’s just how they are. I mean, everything’s covered.”

“And also entirely on display.”

Mark rolled his eyes, smirking at his brother. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Thomas. It’s just...normal, for them. I mean, after the first couple of days at Jack’s court, I barely noticed when women didn’t wear skirts.”

“Too busy looking at the king?”

“Fuck off!” Mark laughed, kicking out a foot and hitting Thomas’ knee. His brother laughed as well, catching him by the ankle and twisting him onto his side.

“You know I’m happy for you, Mark. And not just for political reasons.” It was no secret that the king of TigersEye City was a much more relaxed man now that the Emerald Division was no longer a threat to their eastern front. With Mark safely home and Jack in daily communication, Thomas’ life was much simpler, much safer, and much easier. Mark had noticed a change in his brother even from before and after his kidnapping. He was glad he had been the catalyst for it. “Jack really does seem fond of you.”

“I hope fond is an understatement,” Mark said with a smirk, thinking back to what they talked about when Jack called him through the scrying plates, staying up far too late, with everything tinged emerald green.

“I do not need to know,” Thomas drawled, squeezing his eyes shut. “You are still my baby brother!”

“I’m twenty-seven!”

“Not listening!” Thomas shoved his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala!”

Mark laughed at his brother’s antics, giving him another kick. “When are you going to settle down? You know the whole kingdom is waiting with baited breath for your queen.”

“But no pressure,” Thomas sighed, letting his hands drop. “We’re in discussions with Ruby. Princess L’laitha is considering.”

“A Ruby _princess_?” Mark asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “But what about the affinities?”

Thomas shrugged. “Nobody knows.” The affinitied families protected their talent. There had never actually been a mix of gemstones producing children. Whenever conflicting royals wed, they were always the same gender, for a political alliance instead of a familial one. “I’m hoping ruby wins. Best case scenario, our children will have affinities for both stones.”

“I’m not having kids, Thomas,” Mark said, sitting up again. “If you end up fathering rubies, then the tigerseye affinity-”

“Won’t go extinct.” Thomas gave Mark a look. “We _do_ have cousins with the affinity. It will carry on in their bloodlines.”

“But the rulers of TigersEye City would be _rubies_!”

“And ruby is the more powerful stone. We have to think about what is best for the entire empire, Mark, not just our pride. You yourself are teaching me just how weak we actually are. We have been incredibly lucky thus far, but we shouldn’t continue to rely on luck alone.”

Mark shut his mouth at the gentle chastisement, acknowledging the logic behind Thomas’ words. Their empire was strong, grown far beyond the Fischbach family. For so much success to come at the hands of such a weak gemstone affinity was testament to the strength of their will (and the thickness of their skulls). Bringing ruby, the third-strongest gemstone affinity, into their ruling family would only improve their strength, not weaken it.

“But if your children turned on you?” Mark asked. “If they can control rubies, and you only tigerseye…”

“You said yourself that I could hold off such an attack,” Thomas pointed out.

“Well, yes, theoretically,” Mark agreed. “But I’ve never actually done it. Jack says it should be easy, but I know he was always holding back when he tested me. And if the whole king/prince thing is true, I can’t test you.”

“But maybe I can test you?” Thomas lifted his hands, his eyes glittering gold as the tigerseyes in his rings sprang to life.

“Oh, just try it,” Mark taunted, reaching out to his own stones. They sang beneath his mental caress, twisting their spirits through his own, eager to do his bidding.

Thomas lashed out as Mark had taught him, summoning the strength of his tigerseyes and throwing it at Mark. Mark lifted his own power to block. The two waves of golden power clashed together, and suddenly Mark’s was gone, drawn into Thomas’ pull. Mark’s own stones squealed their glee as they reached out for Thomas, for the _king_ , and Mark couldn’t move, couldn’t even so much as twitch a finger, feeling his brother settling into his gems. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs paralyzed, and Thomas just sat across from him, unaware of Mark’s struggle to break his hold. He was close, so close-

_-a terrifying weight pressing against his chest, leaving him gasping, wheezing, struggling to stay alive. That hulking form between his legs, a bloom of pain from the knife splitting his skin, a hand pressing against him, get away, get away getawaygetawayawayawayawaaaa-_

“Mark?”

Mark lurched forward, grabbing his knees and curling into a ball the moment he could move again. A hand grabbed his shoulder and Mark jerked away with a shout, lashing out blindly at his attacker. “ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

“Mark!”

The voice was distant and far away and Mark curled in tighter, feeling a sob in his chest _don’t cry in front of the king don’t do it don’t cry_ that he was trying to swallow down, to keep in his throat. He jerked at another touch to his arm, but then that touch was a shove and Mark fell sideways into the grass, the blades tickling against his face…

Grass?

The Emerald Division didn’t have grass…

Mark took a shaky breath, daring to open his eyes a crack. He was lying in grass. In soft, green grass. Gardens. Thomas was crouched beside him, a frantic look on his face Mark hadn’t seen since he broke his arm in three places when he was a little boy. “T-Tom…?”

Thomas closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “Oh thank the gods. I thought I broke you…”

Mark unclenched his fingers, his knuckles already aching from how tightly he’d been clinging to his knees. He dug his fingers into the grass, into the dirt beneath, so different from the hard floor in that Emerald house. He was outside, in the warmth, in the sun. He was dressed. Thomas was at his side, not some Sapphire bastard. He was safe. He was safe. Mark closed his eyes, his trapped sob shuddering through his body.

Thomas’ fingers brushed his shoulder, and Mark flinched away. “Don’t…”

“Mark…”

“Go away,” Mark whispered, not even able to lift his face from the grass. “Just… go away, Tom. Please go away. Please…”

Thomas shifted in the grass, drawing a breath as if to protest, but then Mark heard him sigh. “...okay. I’ll...try to get back to your room, Mark. I’ll check on you later. And I’ll keep others out of this garden today.”

Mark loved his brother and his understanding. He really, truly did. He heard Thomas climb to his feet, heard the scuff of his shoes against the gravel path as he left Mark to his private shame.

How had that happened? _How?_ Mark was the experienced gem-wielder of the two! How had Thomas managed to completely overwhelm his defenses? How had he grabbed Mark’s tigerseyes as his own, owning him fully? _How?_ Mark beat a fist into the grass, snarling his frustration at himself, at his weakness, at his gems.

_He was the king…_ his stones whispered to him when they felt his touch. _We always obey the king…_

_You’re supposed to be mine!_ Mark curled his fingers around his headband, ripping it away and flinging it into the garden. _You’re supposed to protect **me**! _ His neckband was next, and his armbands and rings, all thrown as hard as Mark could manage, half-blind with tears and humiliation. Why did he even bother? Why did he even _try_? He loved his stones, but they always betrayed him, always left him vulnerable to being used, controlled, _claimed_.

Stripped of his tigerseyes, Mark knelt in the garden, gripping the grass between his bare fingers. He was safe here, in the winter palace, because at least it wasn’t the autumn palace where he had been kidnapped from. Mark slumped forward, letting his head press against the grass again. Why did he even bother? Was he nothing more than a pawn in everyone else’s power games?

“Mark?”

Jack’s voice wrapped around him, minutes, hours, days later? Mark lifted his head, realizing the sun had moved across the sky. How long had he knelt out here, miserable? Thomas was in front of him again, but this time, he held the emerald scrying plate, activated, with Jack watching him from the other end.

“Thomas, could you…?”

Thomas nodded at Jack’s unspoken request, setting the plate down gently and getting to his feet again. He left the garden without saying a word to Mark. Mark watched him go.

“Mark…” The plate was lying on the ground, so Jack had to be getting a view of the sky. Mark could still see him brush his fingertips against the mirrored surface, and he had to reach out, picking up the plate with one hand, touching his fingers to Jack’s with the other.

“Did he call you?” Mark’s voice rasped out of his throat and he cringed, hating that Jack was seeing him like this. Jack always caught him at his worst. Mark twisted his head down to scrub his cheek against his shoulder, feeling some grass sticking to his skin.

“He was worried, and rightfully so.” Jack shifted on the other side of the plate, balancing it up against his pillows. Mark knew the move from so many nights spent talking with the king. When Jack actually got passionate about his words, he spoke with both his hands, propping the plate so he could gesticulate. It didn’t happen often, but Mark always loved hearing what made Jack thrilled. Somehow, he doubted he would be getting one of those tangential monologues today. “He didn’t know what happened, but… he controlled you?”

Mark closed his eyes and nodded, his head ducking down. Jack sighed, both his hands coming up to brush against the plate. “Oh Mark. I’m so sorry. You need a better teacher. I wish I could have come myself.”

“Your place is in the mountains,” Mark intoned.

“But you and Thomas have no support as you fumble through this…” Jack sighed, pressing his gloved fingers to his temples. “Mark...let’s start simple. Did he hurt you?”

“He didn’t have to,” Mark murmured.

“But _did_ he?”

Mark shook his head, curling his arms around his chest. He felt naked without his tigerseyes, and not in the fun way. He didn’t want to hunt them down, to pull them back on and leave himself vulnerable.

“ _Mark._ ” Jack’s tone demanded Mark’s attention, and when Mark looked up at him, Jack had his hand flat against the plate. The smallest smile tugged at Mark’s lips, and he reached his hand forward to cover Jack’s. It was the only sort of touching they could do, with hundreds of miles between them. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it mattered.

“I panicked,” Mark admitted, watching their hands. His palms were broader, but Jack had longer fingers. They didn’t quite match up, but Mark knew that they fit perfectly when they clasped together, fingers interlaced. “He took control, and I was back in that godsdamned room.”

“You’re _not_ in that room, Mark. And Thomas would _never_ hurt you like that.”

“He’s still out there!” Mark drew his hand back, but then he sagged again and reached back, a silent apology which Jack accepted with a press of his own hand. “The Sapphire...he’s one of the cousins, that’s what you said. One of the pirates. We’re near the coast here, he could be raiding, it’s not like I’m _safe_ in a TigersEye palace! We’ve both seen how that ends up!”

“ _That_ was with the help of Emerald spies,” Jack pointed out dryly. “And quite possibly with some TigersEye insiders. I’ve discussed my theories with Thomas, and he’s taken precautions. You _are_ safe, Mark.”

“I can’t even keep a tigerseye out of my gems!” Mark spat. “How could I possibly hold off a sapphire?”

“ _Mark._ ” Jack shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

“It’s worse! A sapphire is stronger than tigerseye. You kept drilling that in my head! Sapphire and emerald, the top gems, the strongest in the hierarchy-”

“You _are_ a tigerseye!” Jack snapped, heading off Mark’s ranting before he could build up too much steam. “Mark, you _are_ tigerseye, and that’s why you can’t defend against it!

“That makes no sense!”

“Then stop your blood from touching your body!” Jack said, leaning in close to the plate. “Stop your breath from filling your throat! You can’t…” He sighed, raking his hand through his hair, on the side now, not through the top like he used to. He never forgot he wore his crown anymore. “Mark, you can’t fight against your own affinity anymore than you can fight against your heartbeat. If you can control one tigerseye, you can control them all. On an equal footing--say two of your cousins faced off against each other--in that situation, it would come down to the stronger will claiming _all_ the stones. They won’t divide their loyalty. The stones are all or nothing. It’s why there have never been entire armies of affinitied: only one can really command the gems when they touch power. It takes so much effort and concentration to work in concert with other gemstone wielders. I could only manage it a handful of times with Alison. Mally or Máire or Liam always overpowered my emeralds, and don’t even get me started on the strength my father had.” Jack sat back, looking solemnly at Mark. “On an equal footing, it’s willpower that commands, but you and Thomas _aren’t_ on an equal footing. He’s the _king_. Inexperienced or not, the tigerseyes know that he rules them.”

“But they’re supposed to be mine…”

Jack lifted his hands helplessly. “At least he’s the only one who can overpower you. Mark, your skill with your stones is fantastic, and your will is phenomenal. I have no doubt that you’d be able to hold off a sapphire. Thomas is the _only_ exception.”

“I don’t want _any_ exceptions!”

“Then don’t wear the stones!” Jack sat back, exasperation on his face. “Tigerseye _loves_ you, Mark. You are safest in its care.” His eyes flicked up to Mark’s forehead, then down to his neck, and then back to his eyes. Jack said nothing about the absence of Mark’s tigerseyes, but he pursed his lips.

“Shut up,” Mark mumbled.

“Baby.”

“Shut _up_.”

“Is this what you did the first time your armsmaster thumped you?”

“This isn’t the _first_ time! This is going to be every time! I _can’t_ defend against Thomas!”

“And why…” Jack pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Mark, Thomas _marched on an enemy kingdom_ for you. He started the first real war TigersEye City has faced in _four hundred years_ because he thought you were in trouble. Because of this very thing you fear. He heard the rumors. He knew you’d been attacked. Why, _why_ , would you fear him turning on you?”

“I don’t,” Mark whispered, curling his hands into fists and pressing them against the grass between his knees. “I don’t, it’s not _him_ , it wasn’t _him_ attacking me, I just…”

“Mark…”

“Shut up!” Mark let the plate drop to the grass, shoving himself to his feet. “Shut _up_! You don’t get it, Jack! You don’t understand!”

“Mark!”

Mark kicked at the plate, careful even in his rage to not actually connect with the green mirror. If he broke it, Jack would never be able to talk to him again. He did manage to kick a clod of dirt over Jack’s face, though, and he fought the urge to wipe it clean. Mark instead stormed away, out of the garden, leaving Jack to shout after him from the grass.

Hours later, in his room, Mark felt Thomas coming before he heard him, a pillar of tigerseye moving through the hall. He turned away from the door, now lying in his bed as if he could attempt to sleep, but his fingers were moving restlessly beneath his pillow, searching out stones that were not there.

They were not in the garden, either. Mark knew his stones inside and out. He knew exactly what they were, _where_ they were, and he knew right now, they were outside his door, in Thomas’ hands. _Good,_ he thought bitterly, clenching his hand around the one thing that was under his pillow, a worn-out sachet of lavender. _Enjoy your king._

Thomas knocked, but Mark didn’t bother to answer. Thomas pushed the door open anyway.

“Are you going to hate me forever?”

“It’s not you I hate,” Mark mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I didn’t know.” Thomas approached the bed, then sat on the edge, setting Mark’s stones between them. Mark didn’t turn, no matter how much he ached to reach out for them. “I didn’t realize our powers touching would react like that. I didn’t realize I seized control of you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Mark repeated into his pillow.

“Jack and I talked.” Thomas sighed, then picked up one of Mark’s gems and dangled it over his side. “We’re trying something.”

“I don’t want it.” Mark tried to twist away from the leather band, but the rest of his stones were behind him. Mark couldn’t turn away from both.

“ _Baby._ ” That was Jack’s voice. Mark lifted his head to scowl at the plate Thomas was holding.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, I heard you the first time. Take the damn stone, Mark.”

Mark met Jack’s gaze in the mirror, those impossible blue eyes stained green by the plate, and a little of the ice in Jack’s face melted away. “Close your eyes and _trust me_ ,” Jack murmured. “Take the stone. Trust me.”

Mark didn’t trust his stones, but he trusted that voice. He sat up slowly, glowering at the two kings, and snatched the tigerseyes from Thomas’ hand. “ _Fine._ ”

The gems hummed happily in Mark’s grasp, and a vibrating tension inside him calmed. Just having one of his stones back soothed Mark’s spirit. _Don’t wear the stones,_ Jack had said, knowing full well that Mark could no sooner cut his ties with tigerseyes than he could with his heart.

“Your stones,” Jack said, “are _your_ stones. They pick up on your personality. These,” he gestured to his crown, “have soaked up centuries of crotchety old kings and queens, and they grumble at everything I do. But this one,” he touched the large emerald at his throat, the stone that had saved his life, “this one _is_ me, knows me, loves me. This one never second-guesses me, because it thinks as I do.”

“These are _your_ stones,” Thomas said, fastening the armbands around Mark’s biceps despite his frown. “They’ve had twenty-odd years of soaking in your pigheaded stubbornness and pride.”

“ _Yours_ , Mark Edward, the prince who defies kings, who stabs them in the side when all they tried to do was give you a bath.”

“The bath was _after_ the stabbing,” Mark grumbled.

“What _was_ I thinking?” Jack folded his arms on the bed, leaning in close. “They’re the stones of a prince who says no to a king.”

“We reminded them of that.” Thomas held out Mark’s headband. “I want to try to control you again.”

Mark flinched, and there was a slight tap as Jack pressed his hand to the plate, the band of one of his rings clinking against the surface. “Close your eyes, Mark,” he murmured. “Close your eyes and _trust me_.”

Mark looked at Jack, looked at his solemn expression, his soft eyes, and he swallowed hard. He reached out to press his hand against Jack’s, then glanced over at Thomas and forced his eyes shut.

Thomas was a golden flame, wrapped in his own tigerseyes. The stones were sewn into his cape, studded his shoes, sat in his crown. Mark sat in front of him, feeling his own gems around him, watching them dance happily at being reunited with him.

And then Thomas reached out, the gold of his power surging to meet Mark’s. Mark flinched back as his tigerseyes reached forward, singing their happiness at being with their king.

“ _Trust me,_ ” Jack repeated, his words a cool drop of water amidst the flames of the tigerseyes.

Thomas’ power curled around Mark, grabbing at his gems...but it didn’t touch. There was a thin film between the two flames, the smallest of barriers.

It was enough. Thomas pressed up close against Mark, trying to find a chink, a way in, but while Mark’s gems continued to squeal and dance around him, cheering for their king, they did not let him in. _Yours?_ they asked Mark, nudging against him for approval. _Yours?_

_...mine._ Mark didn’t notice his tears until he had opened his eyes again, sniffing louder than he meant. Thomas was smiling at him, keeping his distance. Jack still had his hand pressed against the plate.

“They won’t listen to me anymore,” Thomas said quietly. “I won’t let them.”

“...thank you,” Mark whispered, reaching up with his free hand to wipe his tears off his cheeks.

Thomas leaned in, ruffling Mark’s hair. “I’ll leave you two alone. Good night, Mark, Jack.”

Jack bid Thomas a good night for the both of them, his head cocked to the side as he waited to hear the click of the door.

“He’s gone,” Mark told him, unsure of how well the scrying plates transferred background noises.

“This is where...I’d probably give you a hug,” Jack admitted, glancing back at Mark. He didn’t usually admit to affectionate gestures. Mark had to smile at the thought.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For…” Mark sighed. “For yelling at you. Leaving you in the garden. Just not..”

“Mark, it’s…” Jack shook his head. “Understandable. You’re still _hurt_ , Mark. You took an injury deeper than a healer can tend, and Thomas and I were poking at it today. I’m not saying I _like_ being yelled at, but it’s far better you yelled and kicked than bottled up your anger.”

“I just… I hate this. I hate being helpless.”

“I know,” Jack said. “I hate being so far away.”

Jack sounded sad and frustrated, his eyes tired, but his hand still pressed against the plate. Mark looked at their fingers, looked up to see Jack studying their touch, and he had to know. He had to ask, to say those words they’d never even hinted at.

“Do you love me?”

“W-what!?” Jack’s blue eyes went wide, their hands suddenly no longer fascinating to the Emerald king. Instead he was staring back at Mark, looking trapped, scared.

He hadn’t taken his hand away.

“Do you love me?” Mark repeated. “Thomas seems to think you do.”

“I’m very fond-” Jack began.

“Is that a no?” Mark asked.

Jack fumbled for words, his mouth opening and shutting soundlessly.

He still hadn’t taken his hand away.

He wasn’t saying it.

He wasn’t saying _no_.

Mark let his hand drop, watching how Jack’s fingers twitched, curling minutely as if to grab for him through the plate. He watched Jack’s mouth turn down, knew the signs of the Emerald king’s self-flagellation. “It’s okay,” he said. He knew Jack, just as Jack knew him. He knew Jack’s scars, knew his fears, knew what Jack couldn’t bring himself to say, to do.

“I love you too.”

Jack shut his eyes, curling his fingers into his palm, still pressed against the plate. There was a grimace on his face, just as there was a delighted smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. “Mark...I’m sorry I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Mark repeated. “Jack, it’s okay.” He reached up, touching the stone around his neck, the stone that kept betraying him, the stone that kept trying. “You’ve given me so much, Jack. You don’t need to say the words. I know.”

“I’ll give you flowers,” Jack said suddenly, firmly, his blue eyes opening to pin Mark with his sharp gaze. “When you come back, in the spring. I’ll give you flowers.”

Mark smiled, weak but warm. “I’ll hold you to that.”


	11. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Mark returned to the Emerald Division, he had to wake up.

Mark was not expecting to wake up to a warm weight against his chest. He opened his eyes to see green hair tickling his chin and a smile broke across his face. _Jack!_ Finally, _finally_ , after months apart, months waiting, he was home.

Jack stirred, mumbling in his sleep, but then he settled down again, his lips brushing over Mark’s neck. His breathing was steady and even; he hadn’t woken up. Mark closed his eyes again, the better to savor the feeling of Jack’s legs tangled with his, the touch of skin instead of glass, the _warmth_ of another living body pressed so close. He ran his fingers up Jack’s back, bumping over every knob of his spine, laughing to himself when he ran into the scrunched up nightshirt they had never gotten around to taking off.

Mark opened his eyes again, pulling back so he could see Jack’s face. He still looked older than his years, lines of responsibility beginning to sear themselves into Jack’s forehead, shimmers of gray in his natural hair, but his expression was at peace, his face soft, lips parted slightly.

That mouth was far too tempting, as it had been for months. There was no barrier between them now, no ridiculous distance keeping them apart. Mark traced his thumb over the curve of Jack’s lips, marveling at the difference months of rest could make.

Blue eyes blinked open slowly, and Jack hummed against his thumb, a note of confusion before he smiled. It was shy, hesitant, so unsure, and Mark had to replace his thumb with his lips to better catch the fragile emotion. “Good morning.”

Jack hummed again, nuzzling into the kiss. “Mm. It _is_ a good morning.”

“Are all spring mornings like this here?”

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted, his usual guarded expression missing in the early morning light. “I haven’t had very many spring mornings since I became king. They might be.”

“I look forward to finding out with you.” Mark let Jack go as the other man sat up, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt fell back into place, and Mark pouted, reaching for it. “Off, take this off. Why are you still wearing it?”

“Heh…” Jack’s face flushed with color, but he pulled the cotton nightshirt over his head and tossed it aside. “I think we were both a little rushed last night to do things properly.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, reaching out to the expanse of white skin revealed to him. Jack all but purred as Mark caressed his chest, fingers combing through the dark hair there, petting the king. “Yeah, last night I just...I _needed_ you, so, so much.”

“I certainly wasn’t complaining.” Jack laid down again, resting his head on the pillow beside Mark. “Thank you.” His fingers wandered down Mark’s side, tracing each line of muscle. “I...I did miss you.”

It was the closest thing Mark had gotten to a verbal declaration of love from the Emerald king, and he rewarded Jack with a kiss, pulling him close so there was no space between their bodies, no breath that wasn’t shared.

As Mark rolled them over, covering Jack with his body, Jack looped his arms around Mark’s neck, lazily holding him in place. They took their time with the kiss, neither wanting to be the first to pull away. Jack hadn’t mentioned morning plans yesterday, so Mark decided they had all the time in the world. He hadn’t had enough kisses last night. He’d never have enough kisses from Jack.

Mark was easily distracted, though, and even Jack’s wicked tongue couldn’t keep him focused forever. He found fascination in the corner of Jack’s mouth, loving how a kiss there could make Jack’s fingertips press into his shoulders. From the corner of his mouth, it was an easy slide into Jack’s beard, scratching his lips against the short hairs and following the line up to Jack’s ear, listening to the soft huffs of approval. Mark sucked Jack’s earlobe into his mouth, finding the small holes with his tongue and feeling Jack shiver beneath him, pressing up against Mark’s body.

“Thank you,” Mark murmured, trailing more kisses up the curve of Jack’s ear, finding every spot an earring was missing.

“For what?” Jack asked, hooking a leg around Mark’s to ensure their bodies kept in contact.

“For remembering.” Mark found Jack’s mouth again, letting himself become reacquainted with Jack’s tongue before continuing. “About the emeralds.”

“Mark…” Jack’s eyes slid closed. Mark immediately missed their blueness, but like this he could dust kisses across Jack’s eyelids, making him scrunch his nose up and giggle in a very unkingly way. “ _Mark!_ ” Jack caught Mark’s head between his hands, holding off his onslaught long enough to look up at him again, pulling himself off the pillows and pressing them chest to chest. “You’re still hurting. How could I have done anything else?”

“It’s little things like that,” Mark murmured, searching Jack’s blue eyes. He curled one hand around Jack’s back to support him, smiling at Jack’s confusion. “Little things that whisper how much you love me, over and over.”

Jack’s breath caught, an audible pause. Mark saw the scars behind those blue eyes, shame as Jack tore his gaze away, biting at his lip. “Mark, I...you know I...I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“Hey. Hey, shh…” Mark kissed Jack’s cheek, sitting up and folding his arms around Jack to hug him close. “You’re still hurting too, Jack. It’s okay. I don’t need you to say the words. I already know.”

“I’m not hurting,” Jack protested, spreading his hands flat over Mark’s chest but not pressing him away, not if the fingers brushing just a little too purposefully against his nipples to be accidental were any indication. “There’s been nothing to hurt me…”

“You lost everyone you ever said those words to, Jack,” Mark murmured. He felt Jack freeze in his arms, his back going tense and rigid. “ _Everyone._ In the span of a few months. Don’t try to convince me you’re not still hurting. I won’t believe you.”

Jack’s fingers curled against Mark’s chest, ducking his head beneath his chin. There was a little tremor in Jack’s body, a sure sign that the other man was fighting to not cry.

Mark kissed Jack’s green hair and squeezed him tighter. “Hey,” he whispered. “No crown. You’re not a king right now. You’re just Jack, and I’m just Mark, and I love you.”

Jack said nothing, made no sound, but Mark could feel how he trembled, silently letting himself crumble in Mark’s arms. Mark held him as he cried against his chest, hot, painful tears for the friends and family he’d lost.

“Sorry,” Jack whispered from the cocoon off Mark’s embrace. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” His fingers brushed at Mark’s skin as if to remove the traces of his tears, but Mark caught his hands and kissed his fingertips, kissed his damp cheeks when Jack looked up at him, kissed his pink lips.

“I love you,” Mark said. “And I will say the words enough for both of us, until you’re ready. Just as you put aside your emeralds for me.” Mark reached out to touch the bare spot on Jack’s neck usually covered by an emerald. There was a bruise there now, in the shape of Mark’s teeth. Mark leaned in to kiss it, feeling Jack shiver in his arms. “Someday, you’ll say those words out loud, and someday I’ll let you fuck me while you’re wearing your emeralds. But until then...Why spoil what we can have with concerns about what we’re not ready for?”

“You are not,” Jack growled, shoving at Mark until he had fallen backwards onto the blankets, following him down for a hard kiss, “allowed to be that wise this early in the morning. Not when you’re still naked in my bed.”

“ _You’re_ naked in _my_ bed,” Mark corrected, seizing Jack’s hips in his hands and smirking up at him. “Not that I’m really complaining about the view, mind you.” Jack was still too thin, but he’d filled out in the past few months, no longer looking on the brink of death. Mark ran his thumbs over Jack’s jutting hipbones and let his eyes very deliberately wander down the other man’s body. “I like you best like this. You should never wear clothes again.”

“And scandalize the court?” Jack asked. “Scar the children? I think not. _Some_ of us have greater responsibilities.”

“I do have a greater responsibility,” Mark argued. He urged Jack to kneel above him, sitting up between his legs. Jack watched him, combed his fingers through Mark’s hair and licked his lips. Mark grinned, sliding his hands in. Jack was half-hard, but Mark could feel him swelling thicker as he curled his fingers around Jack’s shaft. “I’m here at the desire of the Emerald King. It’s my duty to ensure he is happy with me, so that I may stay. If he kicks me out, I won’t be able to see his flowers.”

“Oh?” Jack asked, pushing Mark’s hair back from his forehead, his fingers rubbing over Mark’s scalp. “And how do you plan on doing that? I hear the king is a fickle man, hard to please.”

“I’m sure he’s _hard_ all right,” Mark snickered, earning himself a flick to the ear from Jack and a roll of his eyes. “But I am not without my talents. I am especially good at lip service: compliments, flattery, praise…” He leaned in closer with every word, pressing his mouth against Jack’s erection, “...and more…”

Jack moaned as Mark wrapped his mouth around the head, his fingers clenching in Mark’s hair. Mark hummed, sucking gently. Jack tasted even better without cotton in the way, though he smelled sharply of pine from all the oil they had spilled last night. Mark closed his eyes, running his tongue around the curve of Jack’s dick and realizing he would never walk through a pine forest again without becoming uncontrollably horny.

“L-lip service is all well and good,” Jack stuttered, remarkably coherent despite the constant attention from Mark’s tongue, “but a wise king knows not to be swayed by simple flattery.”

Mark pushed down a little further, his mouth watering as he filled it with Jack. Those thin fingers had found their way to the back of his head, squeezing, holding him in place. Mark indulged him for a minute, content to suck on Jack’s cock, his hands working over the soft skin of his shaft, before he leaned back. As soon as he moved, Jack released his hold.

“It’s a good thing I am talented with more than just my tongue,” he said, licking his lips as he looked up at Jack. Jack’s eyes were huge and dark, focused down on him, on his mouth. Had he been watching? Mark hoped so. He hoped he would get to watch Jack return the favor for him some day. “I’m good with my hands as well. Not just with crafting and hunting, but with penmanship and other things of a delicate nature. I could be gentle or firm, whichever the king needs more from me.” Mark kept one hand moving over Jack’s erection, paying close attention to every little gasp or jerk of his hips, hungry to learn what made Jack moan. He slid his other down further, cupping Jack’s balls and drinking in the flutter of his eyes, the way Jack bit his lip to keep his smile at bay. Mark grinned, nuzzling against Jack’s cock, letting it slide against his lips, his cheek. Jack choked back a whine, and Mark pouted up at him. “He _is_ hard to please,” he remarked, “but that’s okay. I haven’t tried the hardest I can just yet.”

As Mark pressed a finger inside him, Jack grabbed his shoulders, his blunt nails digging against Mark’s skin. Mark pressed kisses over Jack’s hips and belly, feeling the lingering slickness from the oil last night and trying a second finger. Jack moaned above Mark, curling around him, his legs spreading wider in invitation. Mark could hardly resist the pretty picture in front of him, wrapping his mouth around the head of Jack’s cock again as he worked his fingers wider, deeper.

Jack rocked between Mark’s mouth and his hand, a symphony of little gasps and moans and cries washing over Mark’s ears. The music he made was punctuated by the scent of pine, the taste of salt-slick skin, the press and clench of Jack’s body around his fingers. Mark groaned himself as Jack fucked into his hand and mouth, his own hips straining upward uselessly, trying to find any sort of friction.

“Stop, stop…” Jack tugged at Mark’s hair, panting as he attempted to haul Mark away from him. Mark pulled back with a whine, immediately stilling his hands as he looked up at those blue eyes above him. Jack shook green hair out of his face, pressing Mark’s shoulders down, back to the bed. Mark had to pull his fingers out, watching curiously and sliding his hands down to Jack’s knees.

“I…” Jack leaned over Mark, holding himself up with his hands, meeting Mark’s gaze with his own. “I…”

“I know,” Mark assured Jack, sliding his hands up to Jack’s back. “I know.”

Jack held Mark’s eyes for a moment longer before he closed his own, reaching behind to find Mark’s cock. Mark barely had a moment to gasp before Jack was lowering himself onto Mark, taking him in for the second time.

“Jack!”

“I’m okay…” Jack shivered over Mark, seated on his lap. Mark clutched at his hips, fighting not to fuck up into his body. There was still some oil on their skin from the previous night, but Jack was even tighter now. Mark had to force himself to look away, to fumble for one of the vials of oil beside the bed, barely managing to get it open.

Jack smiled down at Mark, flexing his legs and lifting himself up. Mark reached between them, slicking a messy palmful of oil around his own cock, groaning as Jack sank back down. With each push, their movements became easier. Mark let Jack set the pace, his angle changing slightly with every thrust until Jack cried out sharper than before, arms shaking as he drove himself down on Mark’s cock.

“There?” Mark gasped, locking his hips in place. Jack nodded frantically, pulling off and pushing down again. Every successful thrust made Jack’s whole body shudder, and Mark couldn’t stop touching him, running his hands over that white skin, his strong thighs, heaving sides, shaking arms... Mark touched it all, stroked him, drinking in every little sound Jack made. He kept coming back to Jack’s cock, taking it in his fist, pushing down every time Jack sank back on his own cock and wringing desperate cries from Jack’s throat.

Jack came alive in the midst of sex, warm and soft and pink, never still, never quiet. The exact color of his eyes when he came seared itself on Mark’s heart as his new favorite color, and the sound of his name stretched in Jack’s accent became his favorite song.

“Oh, you poor fool king,” Mark murmured when they laid together afterwards, Jack’s nose tucked into his neck, their sweat slowly cooling and sticking their bodies together as one. He combed his fingers through Jack’s hair and closed his eyes.

“Hmm?” Jack was busy dusting slow kisses over Mark’s skin, not bothering to stop to form intelligible words. Mark smiled at his sleepy hum, wondering if they’d get a few extra hours before Jack had to get up and be the king again.

“You love me too well. You’re stuck with me now.” Mark brushed Jack’s hair against the way it wanted to lay, smiling as he spiked it into further disarray. “I’m _never_ going to leave your side. Thomas is probably laughing, _no give-backs_.”

“Did you mean it?” Jack asked quietly. “What you said last night? About being home?” He lifted his head to look at Mark, his blue eyes uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Mark brushed his knuckles against Jack’s cheekbone, unable to _not_ smile up at him. “Jack, you’ve been my home since you hauled me out of a river. That was the first real opportunity I had to escape back to TigersEye...and the first moment I realized I never wanted to go without you. Leaving you for winter…”

“You needed to,” Jack said as Mark shook his head at the memory of his despair. “ _Thomas_ needed you, needed to learn about his gems, if nothing else.”

“I don’t want to go back again,” Mark said. “Not for a full season like that.”

Jack leaned down, laughing softly against Mark’s lips. “Oh, you’ll think twice come winter. Besides, you complain something awful when you’re away from your flowers.”

“I’ll build a greenhouse here,” Mark decided. “And then all year around, there will be flowers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends There Will Be Flowers. For real, this time! For those of you who bought the book, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. For those of you who didn't, I hope the wait to get the bonus chapters was worth it!
> 
> The book will continue to be for sale, with the entire text posted here and three new pieces of art from Icarus. It's a lovely little thing, and I'm so proud of it. :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has loved this world as much as I have, and thank you especially to Icarus, who started everything.


End file.
